A Change in Direction
by Christophine
Summary: "But...I'm not supposed to be...human..." Toaster embarks on a new journey; one not of her own making. *Rating may change*
1. Life is Like a Journey

A Change in Direction

Summary: "But...I'm not supposed to be...human..." Toaster embarks on a new journey; one not of her own making.

Chapter 1: Life is Like a Journey on a Road that's Within

"…Glad to be home again. Still glad we went…" The Toaster crooned, bouncing along in the trunk of the van as it drove over bumpy back roads. She knew singing was risky with the humans so near, but she just couldn't help herself.

They'd had such a lovely time.

The Master and Mistress had finally taken a holiday; they'd splurged to rent a little cabin by the lake: the perfect, quiet place to celebrate July, with its cool late evening and fireworks streaming over the lake. To Toaster's delight, the Master had insisted on bringing her and the friends.

"Just can't be parted, can you?" the Mistress had teased, bouncing the little master on her hip as the Master loaded Toaster into the van.

"Hey, you never know when you might need them!" The Master had smiled at his reflection in Toaster's chrome, and immediately stuck out his tongue per their old tradition.

Toaster had loved it. The trip had been lovely; so peaceful with the little family so close by all the time. Just like the cabin. Sometimes-she wouldn't admit it to anyone for the world- she felt lost in the big house, separated from all her friends and her master for so long.

She never wanted any of it to end.

The memories carried her through the ride home. The new van with its open trunk had allowed her to spend as much time with her family as well as her friends. While Radio jammed from his spot between the front seat (the Master insisted that it had better stations than the van radio), Lampy dozed from the box of odds and ends in the passenger seat by the little Master's car seat. She could hear the little Master giggling, and could only guess what Blanky was doing to entertain him.

And Kirby. Toaster turned an eye towards the vacuum, spotting him smiling as he rested against the seat. Even Kirby, stolid and silent, appeared peacefully content.

"Enjoying yourself?" Toaster teased.

He didn't answer right away. He seemed lost in whatever lovely daydream had swept him away. Toaster called him gently before finally getting his attention. His eyes snapped open, and the smile, so unexpectedly content, vanished into his usual frown.

"Now, what'd you stop for?" he demanded, under his breath.

Toaster blinked. "Stop? Stop what?"

A blush darkened Kirby's chrome, and he mumbled as he averted his eyes. Toaster sidled closer.

"What was that?"

"I said your singing." He was still mumbling, but at least Toaster heard him that time.

"My singing?" She watched him curiously before breaking into a smile. "You liked it?"

He grumbled. "It beats what that wavehead is playing."

"It's not so bad." The tune wafting from the front seat was unfamiliar to her, though its catchy beat reminded her of the oldies the master adored. "If the master likes it, it can't be that bad."

"He's got good taste, I'll give him that." The vaccumm heaved a deep sigh. "But I'll sure be glad to get home. Again."

"Why? I thought you had fun!"

Kirby humphed and rolled his brush. "It's all well and good for humans to go somewhere new. But appliances like me need somewhere stable to be, doing what we do best."

Toaster smirked and shook her head at the vacuum.

"You just don't enjoy anything new, do you?" she asked, fondly.

"I wasn't made to try anything new," Kirby retorted, looking at her at last. Looking down at her, anyway, in that condescending frown he'd perfected. "And neither were you. We've had enough adventures to last us a life time, and now I want some real peace in my own home, doing what I was made to do." He closed his eyes. A faint smile took the place of his frown, as though the memory of the country house that had been their home for the last year was soothing to his mind.

"I like that, too." Toaster hesitated. "But…"

One of Kirby's eyes shot open. "But what?" he demanded.

The sight of fireworks shooting over the lake like magic rose before her mind. Watching from the window of the rented lake hut, she had seen them burst and sparkle right over the heads of her master and mistress, the two of them sitting close together while the little master ran from one to the other in excitement. It was a lovely scene, one that wouldn't quite leave her mind.

"Just once," she murmured, closing her eyes against Kirby's scrutinizing glare to listen to her Master speak and her Mistress answer with a laugh. "Just once, it might be nice…"

And then the pain engulfed her.

* * *

Relentless pain burnt at Toaster's core as it tore its way through every inch of her. A terrible rhythm beat its way inside, rivalling even the agony clawing at her head. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath.

Breath… breath…She was breathing?

 _She was breathing._

Voices floated around her head, swarming like drones .

"Pulse low…"

"…Shock…"

"…CCs…"

She squeezed her eyelids, forcing them to open. The floor underneath her spun; streams of yellow lights rushed above her. She tried to move, to right herself against it, and her hand jerked out under the blanket covering her…

… _Hand_ …? Even in the midst of Toaster's pain, her mind fixated that odd word. _Hand. Hand._ And as the floor and lights finally ceased rushing, she could feel herself raising what appeared to be an arm, bending an elbow, and lifting a brown hand toward her eyes. As she willed it, one of the fingers moved…another…

 _Am I…Am I moving them…?_

A white hand appeared and grasped the wrist; Toaster could feel the warm fingers pressing against skin, even with the terrible throbbing that wracked her. She could see the voices now: Humans. Humans swarmed around the room. Around the bed.

Around her…

A light flashed in her eyes. Toaster shrieked and turned away, looking to the man bending over her, watching her.

But, he couldn't be looking at her. He just couldn't be. And she couldn't be looking back at him. Her protective instinct should have snapped in to keep her still and undetected against human eyes.

But there she was, looking up at him and gasping as his mouth moved deliberately under its thick mustache.

"…Hear me…Can you…hear me…?" Toaster stared dumbly. No, He couldn't be speaking to her. Humans never spoke to her…they…the appliance code stopped them...

She screamed as the agony became too much. She struggled in the bed and felt that strange hand that wasn't hers fall on the blanket.

"…Losing consciousness…"

That human hand…a human hand…

"M-Master…" she whimpered before collapsing.

* * *

"…Vitals fine…Pulse steady…"

"…She seems confused…"

The doctor and on -call nurse continued discussing her condition outside of the curtains. Inside, tucked into the hospital bed, Toaster only paid them half a mind as she practiced breath in and out. The pain had dulled, as she had found waking for the second time, leaving only a soft beat that played its rhythm inside of her. From the discussion outside, she gleaned that the medical team couldn't understand what had caused her so much agony when she regained consciousness that first time.

Only now, with her mind clear and her senses righted again, did she even begin to grasp what had hurt her. Not the cuts along her form or the blow to the back of her head, though it still caused dizziness when she tried to sit up. They were healing nicely, or so the last nurse had claimed. The true pain…well, it didn't surprise her now that she that she could think clearly, nor was she bemused that the humans still couldn't guess.

Who would believe that a heart beating for the first time could cause so much torment?

And that was what it was thudding against her now, its steady rhythm still filling her ears as clearly as the beeping from the monitor nearby. A heart. A human heart.

Toaster swallowed. As she had done before when they had rushed her to the emergency room, she drew her hand from the blankets. Turning it back and forth before her eyes, she studied the short pearly nails and veins that spread like streams across the brown skin. Freeing her other hand, she ran each finger down the length of her wrists and arms, cautious with the still sensitive scratches and careful to avoid the IV taped to her left arm. She traced the short tubes that stretched out from the monitor, following them under the hospital gown to the circles taped to her chest. She breathed in, feeling the chest fill and released it when her lungs pleaded. Only one thought filled her mind, punctuated with each beat of that strange new heart.

Human. She was human…she was human…she was human…

The curtain rustled as a nurse stepped inside. Toaster quickly dropped her hands against the bed and lay still, watching her bustle around the machines nearby. It wasn't that she was afraid of her, or any of the others that came near. The medical staff had spoken gently and calmly from the moment she'd woken, never raising their voices or making any move without informing her.

It was just that she couldn't understand…

"Honey?" The nurse was near bending near her. "Honey, are you ready to tell me your name?" Toaster squirmed at the touch of the hand on her shoulder. Even under the flimsy protection of the thin gown, she could feel the fingers warm and beating. She studied the nurse's smile, swallowing again.

"Um…" The voice that emerged was hers. She could hear it plainly. But for all that, she shook at how easily it emerged. She'd never talked to a human before.

"Do you remember your name, Sweetie?" The nurse rubbed her shoulder.

Name? "I'm the..uh…" Toaster. She caught the word before it escaped. Toaster. _I'm the toaster_. And yet it wasn't true anymore. But she was.

 _No. You're human._

And that sensible part of her that still remained of the toaster reminded her in silent glimpses of the world she knew that no human would ever, could ever, understand. But what else could she say to the woman waiting so patiently? Her eyes darted around the curtains at either side of the bed, desperate for inspiration. "The uh…the uh…"

"Thea?" The nurse prompted. "Your name is Thea?"

What? Toaster blinked. What was a thea? She studied the woman who smiled so encouragingly at her.

"Um…Yes?" She cocked her head and ended up having to blow tendrils of hair from her mouth.

"Thea." The hand left her shoulder, and Toaster watched her scribble something across a notepad. She smiled again, bending down to Toaster's level. "It's good to meet you, Thea. How are you feeling?"

Odd. Terrified. Amused. Confused. "…Fine? Just fine." She tried to mimic the nurse's smile, but only felt her cheeks ache from the stretch.

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's good. I'm just going to check your vitals before your doctor comes. Okay?"

"O-okay." Toaster tried hard to remain still, but she jumped with every movement the nurse made. She'd snuck in enough TV dramas to recall hospitals and words like "vitals" and "stethoscope". Having those things touch her were quite a different matter. She breathed when told, held an electric stick under her tongue, looked straight into a tiny light, and allowed her arm to be squeezed by a nearby machine. She wondered why, just as she always did when she watched those medical dramas, humans did this to each other. What were they looking for?

The nurse finished up just as the front curtain drew back, and a burly bearded man popped his head in.

"Hey-lo, Hey-lo." Toaster recognized the man who had squeezed her wrist and asked if she could hear him. He smiled as widely as the nurse, flourishing a pen out of his pocket. "I see we're awake now."

"Oh, have you been sleeping here, too?" Toaster asked before she could catch herself.

"Well…" The doctor exchanged looks with the nurse as she quietly handed over her clipboard. "Well…yes, in a way…" He studied the clipboard. "Thea?"

"Yes, that's me," Toaster quickly answered. That must have been too quick, she realized, as the two humans exchanged glances.

The pen clicked again as the doctor tucked it into his pocket. He eased down onto the stool by the bed and bent forward so that his hands rested on his knees and his eyes looked directly into her face.

She wanted to hide under the blankets.

"Thea, do you know where you are?"

Toaster shook her head. He named some hospital; one she had never heard of before. She shook her head again. Even in the rare times when she had travelled she had never paid attention to things like hospitals and stores.

"That's okay," he said, his voice calm. "Do you remember how you came here?"

Toaster froze. Her heart- that new, strange heart-began to clamor in her chest.

"How…how I came here…?" How exactly was she supposed to know? How was a toaster supposed to know anything like that? Her mind raced for an answer, as much for her own sake as for the benefit of the humans watching.

How had this happened?

"Do you remember the accident?"

Accident? Toaster wrapped her arms around herself. Accident…Something clicked. She closed her eyes. An accident…back in the van…

 _Kirby didn't answer her question; perhaps he hadn't heard her after all. It didn't matter anyway. Soon after their conversation ended, the van pulled into the driveway._

 _"_ _The van's low on gas," the Mistress said, popping her door open._

 _"_ _I told you we should have stopped," the Master replied._

 _"_ _I know, I know. But Robbie needs a diaper change, and I need to stretch. Just unload the car and I'll drive down later."_

 _"_ _Nah, don't worry." The Master hefted himself into the driver's seat as the Mistress popped open the sliding side door. "I'll take it down."_

 _"_ _You sure?" The Mistress unbuckled the little master from his car chair and swung Blanky over her shoulder._

 _"_ _Yeah. It'll just take ten minutes. I'll unload everything when I get back."_

 _"_ _You are so good." From the space between the car side and the backseat, Toaster could see them share a kiss._

 _The van backed out and returned to bumping along the gravel road. Lampy moaned, and Kirby muttered about needing fresh carpet._

 _"_ _Don't worry," she had whispered to them. "We'll be home soon. Just hang on a little while."_

And then? Then what had happened?

 _She didn't know. She had drifted off into some pleasant thought, playing her old game of toasting imaginary bread._

 _And then the car swerved._

 _The Master shouted. Toaster crashed against the van's side as everything tumbled head over heels…boxes, suitcases…glass shattering around her as her friends cried out…_

 _And she felt herself floating in darkness as it all ceased; still and alone._

 _Then the pain began._

 _She screamed as it tore through her. She retched. When she could open her eyes, she saw the van on its side…ditch…smoke rising…Red hair beside the wheels…_

 _Oh, no…oh, no!_

 _Suffering under the pain's grip, aching from colliding with the gravel road, she reached out for him. Her Master...not moving…not moving…_

 _"_ _Kirby. Lampy." She choked on the smoke flooding from the van. No one answered. There was no one there, except the master. Why wasn't he moving?_

 _She can't…she can't…She had to…She stretched out, felt herself grab his shirt and pull, pull with all her might under he was free from the van…_

"Thea. It's alright, Thea." Toaster started with a gasp as the doctor pulled her hands away from her eyes. She stared from him to the nurse. When had she covered her face?

There was concern in the doctor's eyes, though his smile stayed intact as he took her hand between both of his. "It's alright. You don't have to remember. You've been through a very traumatic experience."

"I…I…" Toaster couldn't quite find the words. Even as she glanced down to her hand, she remembered clearly seeing it grab the Master's shirt, tug him out from underneath the car, and cling to him.

"I…I saved him…" she whispered. She pulled her hand from the doctor and held it up in front of her eyes again. "I saved him…"

"Yes, you did." He patted her shoulder, his voice light. "You saved the driver. You're a hero."

"No." Toaster shook her head, feeling hair swish over her face. "No, I saved him… like this." She thrust the hand in front of the doctor's face. She had been human in the accident. She had touched her Master with human hands.

Yes…

But, no! That couldn't be. She had been a toaster when the car…turned? Tumbled? She had been a toaster…then turned human?

"But that makes no sense!" Her head began to pound, and she clutched at it with a moan, accidently tugging at the IV.

"That's alright. That's alright." The doctor tried to take her hand again, but she tore it away.

"No!" she screamed, causing both humans to jump. "You don't understand! This isn't supposed to happen!" She shoved him when he tried to reach for her again and slapped back the nurse who was trying to comfort her.

Human…not human…human…not human…

"I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HUMAN!"

Another nurse bustled past the curtain at the Doctor's call. Toaster threw her arms up to shield herself, but couldn't fight off the three of them as they held her down. Suddenly, the fight left her as a warm, drowsy sensation washed through her, quieting even the beating heart. She blinked her eyes to stay awake, and managed to spot a fourth nurse fiddling with a bag connected to her IV. Toaster barely heard the doctor reassuring her that they would talk again when she felt better.

"But…I'm not supposed to be… human…"


	2. Head Says You Should Stay

Chapter 2: Head Says You Should Stay, But Your Heart Says to Begin

His first sensations were voices; shouting. They washed over him, filling the heavy darkness with their confusion. The acrid stench of smoke choked him, and his mind clawed for relief.

Then, a sudden chill snapped him awake. The voices were gone. The stench subsided. The milky sky rose above him; he could feel ground, firm and cold, beneath him.

Where was he? Where was the van? His master…?

Throbbing pulsed through his ears, punctuating his agony. He strained against it as he tried to rise, tried to find...

Through vision blurred by red haze, he saw the van on its side, its hood wrenched open, and its windows shattered. Smoke from the engine streamed silently upward.

No…no…his friends…his master…

With an anguished cry, he groped for a hold on the ground. Grass tore as he grasped at it, and he collapsed several times before finally pushing himself upward. He swayed as he stumbled forward, clutching at his head before the touch of warm blood stopped him in his tracks. But it wasn't the sight of blood on his fingers, or the way it trickled down the side of his head. It was the sight of fingers that moved when he willed them, and the realization that he stood on legs that weren't his own. His breathing quickened, and his vision swam.

"Oh, good God! It's another one!"

He glanced up at the new voice, peering forward to see figures scrambling down the ditch towards him. A tow truck was perched at the very edge of the ditch, where workers had been connecting its hitch to the van.

"Mister, can you hear me?" One worker reached had reached him. He could feel gloved hands grabbing him, persuading him to sit. "Someone grab that blanket! He's stark naked!"

"Again? How many of those nudists are out here?"

"Shut up, you dumbass, and call another ambulance! He's in shock!"

Humans…humans…His breath quickened, and the pulse became too much to bear. He wavered for good, falling back into oblivion.

* * *

"…No match from the database. No birth records, or fingerprints…"

Toaster roused from sleep as the low words continued. Her eyes tried to open, but her body felt too warm and content nestled in the bed. Even the panic that began nagging her again seemed miniscule compared with her comfort.

"Does the name Masters ring any bells for you?"

"Masters?"

"That's the name she kept telling paramedics. It might not be her name, though."

"No one has called about her?" Toaster's fuzzy mind insisted that she recognized that second voice. Something about cabins and soft white bread and waiting…searching…for the…

"We've checked the police station for missing persons. No one seems to match her description."

"She couldn't just have appeared out of nowhere, no clothes or anything!" That voice was familiar, too. Toaster scrunched her face and blinked a few times. Driving and don't like that music and Robbie…

"Rob, are sure you don't recognize her?"

Rob. Toaster's heart leaped with the name. She willed her eyes to clear as she clutched at the sheets.

There were three people standing near the half drawn curtain. She could see her doctor's broad shoulder and white coat, and beyond him stood the mistress, clear as a bell, clinging to the arm of the…

"Chris, I already said no. I don't even know where she could have come from. I swear, there was no one else on the road."

The Master! Toaster struggled to sit up. The IV tugged cruelly at her arm, but she bit her lip to fight it back.

"It's you!" she cried.

Immediately, the couple's eyes shot to her, and the doctor's arm drew the curtain back completely. For a brief moment, Toaster didn't notice the surprise that crossed her master's face, and barely registered the sling cradling his right arm or the bandages across his head and cheek. She only saw that it was him; he was alive.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed again, tears forming at her eyes. "And you're alright!"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah." The Master hesitantly moved past his wife and the doctor to stand near the bed. "I'm…I'm great. And, um…" He cocked his head to one side and pushed his glasses further up on his nose as he looked down at her. "How…how are you doing?"

Toaster laughed. She couldn't help herself. All her confusion disappeared at once. "I'm great! I don't think I've ever felt better." New energy and excitement bubbled inside her. She was talking to the Master. She was actually talking to him, face to face.

And he was listening to her; answering her. Every single word.

"Well, that's good." He smiled; nervously, but he smiled at her all the same.

"It's wonderful!" she exclaimed.

"Well, she sure seems to know you." The Mistress was at his side again, eyeing Toaster as she clasped the Master's arm.

"Right. But I've never…" The Master hesitated. "Um…they tell me-us-your name is Thea? Thea Masters?"

Thea what? Toaster nodded anyway.

"Thea, I know this might be a strange question: do you remember how you know me?"

Whoops. Toaster's excitement vanished in a cold rush. Oh, no. Her eyes darted from one face to another, each equally suspicious and concerned. Even the doctor, who had slipped in by her side to check her pulse, watched her carefully.

How was she going to explain this to them?

Did she have to?

"I…I…just…well, you have a veterinary clinic…" she tried.

"Oh!" The Master's face cleared. "You know about the clinic."

"Yes!" Toaster clasped her hands together, relieved.

"I don't think I've ever seen you visit before." Toaster was certain she didn't like the way the Mistress glared at her.

"No, I haven't visited, exactly. I've…" Toaster rapidly searched her memory for inspiration. If only Radio were there. He'd think up a good story.

Story. That newspaper clipping the mistress had hung on the fridge… "I've seen you in the newspaper. Last week. I saw you in the newspaper last week!" she exclaimed, triumphantly recalling the words Lampy had read. ' "Veterinarian Rob McGroarty saves life of local seeing eye dog."'

"The paper? Oh! That's right. That headline from June." The Master shared a look with his wife, who turned her glare to him. "She must be local after all."

"The paper. Right." The Mistress said, dryly. "Because our town is the only one that gets that paper."

"Chris…"

"Look, I know she saved your life. I know!" The Mistress threw up one hand before looking at Toaster again. "So, where do you live?"

"Um…" The questioning was making her head spin. The smell and noise of the hospital wasn't helping; she'd never smelled anything so sharp and fierce before. And she was running out of ideas fast. Why was the Mistress being so cruel? "Can I…can I just leave? Please?" Without waiting, she threw back the covers and tried to jump out of the bed. A fierce pain in her arm reminded her of the IV again, and she yelped. Immediately, all three surrounded the bed to help her.

"Why don't I have a nurse take this out, now? Hm? You don't really need it anymore." Toaster only sniffled in response as she realized that the Master and Mistress were standing outside the curtain once again. While the nurse instructed her to make a fist, she strained to hear the heated conversation the two were having.

"…No! A stranger in the house?"

"...Needs help…saved me…"

"…Don't know who…or where…"

"Ow." Toaster lost her concentration as the IV came out. She clutched her arm against her chest.

"Thea." The Master and Mistress returned to the bed. Toaster watched them, both curious and hopeful. The Master was smiling; not as widely as the doctor and nurses, but with a warmth that Toaster would have known anywhere. "Thea, how would you like to get out of here and stay with us for a while? Maybe you'll remember everything in a couple of days."

"With you?" Toaster couldn't hide the relief she felt. She could go home. Finally! "Yes! Please!"

She eagerly seized the hand he offered her, holding it tightly. She smiled at the Mistress. The mistress returned her smile with a lopsided, weak grin, but Toaster didn't care.

She was going home, where everything would make sense.

* * *

Cherry. Toaster closed her eyes in ecstasy as she sipped from the straw. The Master called it a cherry limeade slushy. He had handed to her after they left the hospital, laughing as he claimed it was better than hospital food.

She agreed wholeheartedly. The hospital food she'd barely touched after they took out the IV was nothing in comparison to this tart delight. She put her whole effort into gulping it down, only glancing up now and then to look at the world past the rental car window.

"Looks like the Meyer house is for sale again," the Mistress remarked as they bumped down the road.

Toaster leaned forward to glance out the window to watch the buildings and houses speed by, clutching the jumbo size cup in both hands. She'd already spilled slushy down the front of the brown blouse the mistress had given her; the last thing she wanted was to ruin more clothing.

Clothes. She shifted in the seat, still sensitive to the sensation of clothes she wore. She cringed every time the loose blouse flapped, or when the elastic band of the pants stretched as she moved. She wriggled her toes inside the socks, wishing the sneakers didn't cling so tightly to her feet. Even as she thought about them, she stuck a finger in-between the shoe and her foot to relieve the pressure.

The Mistress had presented the clothes to her when she and the master returned to her room after signing release papers.

"You don't want to wear the hospital gown everywhere," she'd stated when Toaster held them out gingerly in front of her.

Toaster almost wished she had. Getting into the clothes was harder than humans made it look. She'd gotten lost inside the blouse, wasn't sure how to hook the brassiere, and kept putting the socks on the wrong way. In the end, a nurse had to help straighten her out. While she was grateful for the mistress' clothes and the sneakers the hospital donated, she couldn't help wondering why humans needed so much padding.

Even with that uncertainty, everything in the world appeared so bright, even the things she had seen before. The house, as it rose up in front of her, though it seemed smaller than she recalled, was still more welcome than any sight in the world.

"Home sweet home," the Master sighed, as the Mistress parked the rental car.

Home sweet home, alright, Toaster silently agreed, sighing. No matter how different she was, she was glad to be in a familiar place.

"You ready to go in?" The Master smiled over the seat at her.

"Mhm!" Toaster struggled with the seatbelt.

"Here, let me get that." The Master opened the passenger door. A struggle ensued in which he tried to unlock her seatbelt with one hand, while she moved and squirmed to help him. They ended up laughing at the efforts.

The Mistress was standing in the doorway, speaking to the teenager who often looked after the little Master. By the time Toaster and the Master came up, the teenager had been paid and was skipping away to her car.

"That girl always charges an arm and a leg," the Mistress muttered, shifting the little Master on her hip.

"She does a good job looking after Robbie," the Master offered.

Even Toaster cringed under the Mistress' withering look.

"Goody too-shoes." The Mistress rolled her eyes. "Get inside and start resting. Doctor's orders."

They headed inside. The door wide open before her, Toaster found her feet cemented to the walkway. Everything looked familiar from the outside. But, inside, her friends were waiting. Her mouth went dry as she realized that she would have to face them-all of them- as a human.

"Hey." The Mistress poked her head out the door. "You coming?"

Toaster nodded slowly and took a breath as she crossed the threshold.

"Welcome to our humble abode," the Mistress said, closing the front door.

"It's wonderful," Toaster replied with as much honesty as she could. In truth, it was as though her eyesight had changed. Colors appeared deeper, warmer. She rested her hand on the back of the sofa, noting the way her shoes scraped across the floor. Even as a toaster she had felt the differences between soft and hard, furry and smooth; but now touching things sent tingles through her nerves. She quivered with the stark difference. Her eyes drifted to the stairs where the master was disappearing, and to the kitchen inhabited by many of her friends.

"Yeah, sure. This is our son, Robbie." The Mistress indicated the baby with a jostle of her hip. "Say hi to Thea, Robbie."

The baby clutched at his mother as his brow furrowed. He pointed a finger at Toaster.

Grateful for the distraction, Toaster bent towards him. "Hi there!" she exclaimed, smiling into his confused face. "It's nice to meet you. Robbie." She tapped his finger, shyly.

The baby's eyes suddenly brightened. His little hand grasped the strand of hair that had fallen over Toaster's eyes.

"Tuh…tuha…stuh."

He recognized her! Toaster burst into a laugh.

"Huh, that's strange." The Mistress untangled the baby's hand from Toaster's hair. "I've never heard him call anyone 'toaster' before." She gave Toaster that same suspicious look again.

Toaster forced a grin as she shrugged, unable to think of an explanation.

"Hm." The Mistress shifted Robbie to her other hip as she turned away. "I'm going to put the guest bedroom together. Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the living room?"

"Oh. Okay. Thank y—" Toaster trailed off as the Mistress all but stormed up the stairs without another word. Left to herself, she stared again at the doorway into the kitchen. More than likely everyone had jumped into their respective places when they heard the rental car pull into the driveway.

"There's no use standing here, then," she told herself. "It's time to face them." On impulse, she tugged off her sneakers and socks, taking a moment to adjust to the hard floor under her feet before stepping into the kitchen.

It was still and quiet. Everything was in its place, clean and sparkling in the afternoon light. The microwave, the faucet, the oven...all were in their reserved places, as still as stone. They might as well have been corpses, toaster realized. She couldn't sense them at all.

"Microwave?" she whispered, approaching that individual. "Microwave? Can you hear me?"

The microwave didn't change. Toaster clasped the cool metallic handle and pulled the door open. Nothing. She took a deep breath. Her own personal friends were not in sight, but that was just as well. Now she knew: the appliance code of secrecy applied to every human, former appliance or not.

Her heat sank as she closed microwave's door. How was she going to handle this, all of this, without her friends?

A scrapping sound caught her attention. She turned to the end of the kitchen, where Ratso was sipping from his water jug.

"Ratso!" she exclaimed, suddenly hopeful. He was a sight for sore eyes, and not just because he was moving around. She hadn't seen him since their vacation. For some reason, the mistress had vetoed bringing him along. A minor point now, Toaster knew.

On hearing his name, the rat went still, watching her with rapt attention. She hurried over to him. Ratso sniffed at her through the bars.

"Ratso, it's me!" She poked a finger through the cage.

Ratso shied away. Then, his eyes narrowed as he locked gazes with her. In his old manner, he straightened up and his eyes bulged.

"Toaster?" he exclaimed in awe.

"Yes!" Toaster laughed, ridiculously glad to understand him. "It's me!"

"How the…? What the…? Are we in an episode of the Twilight Zone?"

"Um." Toaster glanced around the kitchen. "I don't think so."

Ratso flung his arms out. "But you're human!"

"I know!"

"You're…a chick?"

"Yup!"

"How'd you do it? Wish really hard?" Ratso looked her over with a critical eye.

"I don't know how it happened. I'm just…and the van...and I'm here! With hair and clothes and all! Ta da!" Toaster flung her arms out to the sides and spun around.

Ratso frowned and rubbed his chin. "Ain't those the clothes the Mistress was wearing before she had the baby?"

Toaster's enthusiasm deflated. "They were the only things that fit," she admitted. "My body shape is different," she echoed the Mistress' words.

"Yeah, no kidding." Ratso crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "You ain't exactly Marilynne Monroe."

"Oh. Is that bad?" Toaster looked down at her body. In truth, she had been so focused on leaving that hospital and getting home she hadn't even thought about how she looked.

"Well, maybe you just make a bad first impression. For a human, that is. Geez." Ratso shook his head in disbelief. "Wait till the guys hear about this one! No wonder you weren't answering!"

"Answering?"

Ratso thumbed in direction of the driveway. "After the accident. Radio and Lampy kept trying to talk to you, but you wouldn't say nothing. They thought your coils were knocked loose or something."

Toaster felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "But I wasn't in the van. I fell out…with the Master…"

"Oh, you were there, alright," Ratso insisted, scratching his nose. "They told me they kept trying to call you and shake you up until the tow truck cleaned everything away. The Mistress put you out in the shed…" He trailed off, shivering as he looked at her again. "Boy, eerie!"

She knew how he felt. "You mean my body-my toaster body-is out in the shed right now?"

"Yep." Ratso whistled. "Talk about your out of body experience." He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Where you been all this time?"

"In a hospital. They thought I was hurt from the accident."

"Oh." Concern shadowed Ratso's eyes as he put his head between two cage bars to get a closer look at her. "Were you?"

"No…I mean, this body wasn't hurt too much." She pushed the sleeve back from one of her arms, observing the fading bruises from the IV. "But, Ratso, I need to know how this happened. I don't remember changing. I don't remember anything! Do you think you could ask the hearing aids?" she added, inspiration dawning on her as she glanced at the junk drawer.

"Hey, you can count on me!" Ratso saluted her. "I'll let everyone know what happened and see if they got any bright ideas. Boy, they sure aren't going to believe this!"

"Thanks, Ratso." Instinctively, Toaster rubbed his head with one finger and laughed at the look of pleasure on his face. "I've got to go," she whispered, hurriedly, at the sound of the Mistress' voice on the staircase.

"Hey, wait! What happened to Kirby?"

Alarm shot up her spine. "What do you mean what happened to Kirby?"

"They didn't find him in the wreck. The van must have thrown him out like it did you. Tell me when you find him so I can-" Ratso suddenly dove backwards and began kicking up the shredded paper in his cage.

"There you are." Toaster jumped at the sound of the Mistress' voice. She whirled around, plastering a smile on her face. "I wondered where you got to. Um…were you hungry?"

"No, no, I was just…looking around?" Toaster tried a laugh.

"Right." The Mistress crossed her arms. Toaster shifted under her studying look. "Well, I've made up the guest room for you. You'll probably want to shower, too."

"Shower?" Toaster cringed.

"Come on, I'll show you how the handles work." The Mistress turned abruptly and walked off.

With a glance at Ratso, who shrugged at her, Toaster hurried after her.

* * *

Toaster breathed heavily as she stood before the shower stall. Steam filled the air, accompanying the sound of streaming water behind the shower curtain. The mistress had tried to explain how to turn on the hot water, then gave up with a sigh and turned them on herself when Toaster wouldn't leave the doorway. In seconds, Toaster found herself alone in the bathroom, her back against the door the mistress had slammed, with only the sound of the streaming water in front of her.

Even with the old fear bubbling up in her throat, she found herself glancing towards the mirror over the sink. Curiosity took over, and she inched forward until she was standing directly in front of the oval frame. The round face that stared back at her reflected awed brown eyes and a small red mouth. Her heart beat as she parted the lips and studied the tongue that stuck out and ran over white teeth. Mousy brown ringlets appeared between waves of frizz across her forehead and shoulders. Whenever she reached up to push them back, she could feel the way they clung to her scalp.

Was that really what she looked like? Was that really what the master and the mistress saw when they looked at her?

Eyes fixed on the stranger, she awkwardly took off the clothes and let them puddle at her feet.

For the first time, she saw her new form in its entirety: the swell of breasts from her chest, the wide hips that curved down into legs and feet. Her fingers drifted toward the veil of dark curls that nestled below her belly, then further until they touched the soft skin between her legs. Watching in the mirror, she traced every contour of the body with her hand.

"This is me," she heard the reflection say as she spoke out loud.

Then, emboldened, she pulled back a corner of the shower curtain and thrust her hand into the stream.

She trembled. She couldn't help it. Visions of electric surges and outages spent years forming their nightmares in her sleep. But the touch of warm water on her skin felt delicious, and roused something sweet in her new form that eased the fear. Bracing a hand against the stall, she stepped over the tub's edge.

Ohh. She released the breath she had been holding and closed her eyes, basking in the warm water as it engulfed her. She rubbed her hands over her arms and shoulders, then tossed her head to throw her soaking hair back. So this was why humans liked water. This was why they weren't afraid.

A tiny little thought crept into her mind; just a notion that seduced her with its earnestness. Almost unbidden, she reached down to twist the knobs off. The water stopped, and a brief chilled caused gooseflesh as she pulled the curtain aside again. She reached for the blue towel the Mistress had set out on the rack and pressed it to her face. It was awkward, but she managed to dry herself. When she stood before the mirror again, she saw the reflection looking back with newfound satisfaction.

Experience. That was the word for the tiny notion that had sprang up during her shower. Until Toaster heard back from the hearing aids, she would take advantage of every experience that her new body had to offer. That meant learning to shower and dress like a human, yes, but also more than that.

She lay down in the bed, enveloped by softness of the plush spread and pillows.

"Yeah," she whispered, as sleep lulled her. "I'm going to do this. I'm going to be human."

* * *

"There she is."

"I don't believe it."

Voices tugged at the edge of her awareness. Toaster stirred, but refused to give into wakefulness. Whether it was the effect of her consciousness in a body, or the weariness of the hospital, she felt sleep was the sweetest notion in the world.

"She's so…so…"

"Human."

She rolled over, vaguely aware of the towel slipping from the bed. Her eyelids fluttered at the click of a door closing, and the muffled sobs.

"Knock it off."

"But I want Toaster!" the little voice whined.

"She's right there. Sort of."

"But I want OUR Toaster…" The cries pierced her dreams.

"Blanky," she murmured, responding to the dream. "Don't cry." She let her arm fall from the side of the bed.

Soft cotton stroked her fingers.

"Blanky, don't!" a voice exclaimed.

The sniffles were close by Toaster's ear this time. "But I don't want her to get cold…" in seconds, Toaster was enveloped by a nice warmth. Weariness tugging at her, she drifted back to sleep again as the voices and the heart- aching sobs continued.


	3. So You Go

Chapter 3: So You Go

On waking as the sun rippled through the blinds, Toaster found herself wrapped in a yellow blanket, with the heating dial resting against her neck.

"Oh. Oh, Blanky," she exclaimed, sitting up. So she hadn't been dreaming.

The dial remained faceless, but his cries echoed in her ears.

"Oh, Blanky," she said, stroking the top of the dial. "I know this must be difficult for you." She glanced over the edge of the bed, not surprised to find both a desktop lamp and an old- fashioned radio on the bedside table. "This is strange for me, too," she admitted.

They remained motionless, but she had known them for so long that she could feel their gazes, and knew they were listening to every word.

"You shouldn't be in here," she admonished. "What if the Master and Mistress catch you in here? And, Blanky, you're supposed to look after the little master." She tried to be gentle as she scolded. "I'm okay, guys. Really. The hearing aids are going to find a way to change me back. You guys don't have to check up on me, alright? Now, come on, let's put you back." She dressed in the clothes she had worn yesterday, trying to take her time to get them right.

"I'll be fine," she repeated, gathering them up in her arms. She opened her door a crack to peer out. Finding no one, she slowly made her way to the bedroom at the end of the hall, hesitating in front of the closed door. She had never been in the master's bedroom during the day. She could hear the little master singing downstairs, but there was no sounds to let her know where the Master and the Mistress were. Suppose she intruded…?

Clutching her friends tightly, she took hold of the door knob and turned it slowly. The door brushed against the carpet while she held her breath and peeked inside. The curtains on the window across from her had been drawn aside, though the shutters were still closed, casting only slivers of light against the bed. The Master lay fast asleep in bed, the blankets drawn up to his waist and his casted arm resting on his chest. The Mistress was nowhere in sight.

Taking the opportunity presented, Toaster tiptoed into the room. The carpet muffled her steps, but she feared even breathing would wake her Master. She carefully set down the radio and lamp on his dresser, lingering to pat both of them.

"I'll find Kirby, too," she promised in a whisper. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

At her side, the Master sighed deeply in his sleep. Toaster went still, hoping feverishly that he wouldn't wake up. After a few seconds of waiting in silence, she turned her head to look at him. He had barely moved, though his face had turned towards her in his sleep. Toaster's heart bled at the pain creased on his face. Hugging Blanky, she shuffled closer to the bed's edge to peer closer at him.

Her poor master. Toaster shook her head, trembling as memories of the accident crossed before her eyes. It had been terrible for her; it must have been ten times worse for him, she realized, looking at his cast. Unable to help herself, she stretched out a hand to touch his cheek.

"Rob? Are you up?" Toaster jerked her hand back as the door to the room swept open. Not quickly enough, she realized, as the Mistress stared at her.

"Thea?" The Mistress quickly lowered her voice. "What are you doing in here?"

"I was, uh…" Toaster hurried to the door, heart beating uncomfortably. Making up excuses was exhausting. "Looking around?"

Wrong answer, guessing by the way the Mistress' eyes flashed at her. Toaster flinched as the Mistress grabbed her shoulder to pull her out of the room.

"Oh? Is that so?" The Mistress resumed a normal tone as she closed the door firmly and planted herself between it and toaster.

"It's a very nice… bedroom?" Toaster tried to sound casual, but somehow the question mark ended up at the end of the sentence anyway.

"Right. And the downstairs is even nicer." The Mistress gestured firmly towards the staircase with her hand.

"Oh.I..." Why was she so upset? "I didn't mean to…" Toaster's explanation was cut off as the Mistress suddenly seized a corner of Blanky.

"Hey, here's Robbie's blanket! How did you get it?"

"Hm? Oh!" Toaster relinquished Blanky. "It was outside the door this morning."

"That's odd." The Mistress inspected the electric blanket closely. "Robbie never drops it anywhere." Toaster could hear the accusation loud and clear, though she couldn't find a way to respond. She ended up looking down at her feet, unable to stand that scolding look any longer.

She moved only when the Mistress pushed past her. "Oh, well. Weirder things have happened. He'll be glad to see it anyway. Did you sleep well?" she asked, flatly, as she headed down the stairs.

"Yes, I did," Toaster answered, hurrying to keep up. "Beds feel much nicer than I imagined."

"You sound like you never slept in one."

"Well…" Toaster paused at the top of the stairs. "Not exactly," she added in an undertone.

The Mistress either didn't hear her or simply didn't care to answer. Toaster heard the little master squeal in delight, and found him hugging blanky when she stepped off the stairs.

"Hi, little ma…robbie." She caught herself quickly as she leaned over him. The little master's eyes sparkled, and he stretched up both arms towards her. Toaster eagerly picked him up.

"Oof! You're heavier than I thought!" she exclaimed, smiling at his beaming face. With Blanky held tightly in one arm, he used his free hand to pat her nose.

"Toah-toah-stuw."

"Shh!" Toaster pressed her forehead against his. "I know you know, but you can't tell anyone, alright?"

"Can't tell anyone what?" The Mistress reappeared from the kitchen with the little master's puppy sippy cup in hand. Toaster flinched, expecting yet another look, but the Mistress only handed the little master his juice without glancing at her.

"That…I'm hungry," she replied, watching the little master drink with gusto. As proof, her stomach suddenly rumbled, alerting both her and the Mistress to its need.

"Oh. Yeah. Well, help yourself to anything in the kitchen." The Mistress took Robbie as he held out his arms to her. "We just came back from a trip, so I haven't had any time to grocery shop."

"Thank you." Toaster lingered, however, to watch the Mistress settle the little master with his sippy cup and his toys.

"Something up?" the Mistress finally asked, catching her eye.

"Um, I just wondered if you knew what caused the accident?" It had suddenly occurred to Toaster that the more she could tell Ratso, the more he'd be able to explain to the hearing aids.

And, really, she was dying to piece everything together.

The Mistress shrugged. "Well, I don't really know that much. I wasn't actually there when it happened. From what everyone else has said, the van hit something in the road and blew out both front tires. Rob lost control of the steering wheel, and the whole thing ended up in the ditch. The tow truck guys think something was up with the engine...but, anyway, then you showed up and pulled him out of the wreck." The Mistress blinked at her. "Um...What exactly do _you_ remember?"

"Me?" Toaster's mouth went dry. She dropped her eyes to the little master, wishing that she had a blanket to cuddle with just then. "I don't…I don't really remember anything. One minute I was…" A Toaster. "…And the next I was there in the hospital."

The Mistress' lips set in a hard line. "Right. That's what they said at the hospital, too. Look, don't worry about it." She sighed and smoothed her hair back. "The roads in this area are full of crap and junkies. Maybe Rob just hit some trash or something. He's never been good with cars. I am. I like driving. I should have been driving." Her voice dropped with that last sentence, sounding strained. Toaster found herself twisting the hem of the blouse uncomfortably.

The phone rang and broke the Mistress' reverie. "Look, I'd love to sit around and talk, but I've got some calls to make. And I have to check on my husband. If you're hungry, like I said, help yourself. Damn it, I still need to call about the van…" She answered the phone without so much as another look at Toaster.

Glad to be free from the conversation, Toaster quickly slipped into the kitchen.

"Well, well, well, look who finally woke up." Ratso greeted her, chomping away on his pellets.

"it's not that late," Toaster protested, glancing at the clock over the doorway. But her attention focused on the wide range of cabinents and drawers before her, each holding their treats. She began to open them all, one by one, to study what they contained. A funny eagerness took over her as she ran her hand over the organized boxes and containers. There was the familiar loaf of bread with the butter knife nearby, waiting for the Master's daily repast (poor things; did they miss her…?) and there were the cereals the Mistress enjoyed in the morning.

But even with her stomach complaining loudly and twisting her insides, she couldn't make up her mind. What exactly did someone like her eat-enjoy, rather-for a morning meal?

"Milk's in still in the fridge," Ratso said, as though reading her dilemma. "I don't think it's soured, or else the mistress would have tossed it away when she was digging through there."

Milk, milk…Toaster's hand suddenly passed over a box of pancake mix between the raisin flakes and corn pops. She recalled the way the cakes sizzled in their greased pan and the sight of golden syrup drizzling down on them. Suddenly her mouth watered.

Just what did pancakes taste like?

Smiling to herself, she pulled the box down and headed for the fridge to pull out the milk. She looked the cartoon over, fingers tapping against it as she tried to remember how the mistress made them. A bowl of course, and a wooden spoon were what she needed, and a pan and the container of vegetable oil…

"Uh, Toaster? Whatch doin there?" Ratso had stopped eating to watch her arrange things on the counter.

"I'm going to make pancakes!" Toaster announced, proudly opening the pancake mix.

"You sure that's a good idea? I mean, maybe working with the stove ain't a great way to get started as a human."

"I'm sure it'll be alright," Toaster reassured him. She was too enthusiastic to stop herself now. Besides, it was another experience.

It was a disaster. She tried to hold the box steady to pour and ended up spilling the contents everywhere. The milk met with the same fate, splattering her clothes and shoes as she tried to aim its stream into the bowl. Mixing it together proved more difficult than she imagined. Her human hands slipped as she dug the spoon into the lumpy mess, and she ended up couching on the puffs that rose from the bowl each time.

"Don't stir so hard. You ain't mixing cement. Add some more milk…geez, leave some for the pan, would ya?" Ratso's quick tips and woeful advice didn't improve her efforts.

Her stomach had gone from growling to gnawing fiercely at her insides. She finally gave up trying to smooth out the batter and just hoped that cooking would help it along.

"Ratso, how much vegetable oil do I use?" she asked, pushing her floured hair out of her eyes as she picked up the bottle.

"Well, geez, how should I know? I can never see anything way over here?"

"I'll just guess then," Toaster decided, wishing she'd paid closer attention when the Mistress cooked. She set the pan on the closest burner and carefully, with both hands, managed to pour just a dollop of the oil into it.

"Whew!" she exclaimed, rubbing her belly with one hand. It groaned loudly.

"Just a moment," she reassured it, reaching out to turn on the burner. "If you'll just be patient, I'll feed you something sweet really soon."

"Carefull…carefully…" Ratso cautioned, as she began to spoon the mix into the pan.

Apparently, Toaster had no definition for the word 'carefully'. Within the two seconds of pouring out the batter into the sizzling oul, the entire pan began to smoke.

"Uh oh, Ratso, help!" She clapped her hands to her ears as the fire alarm shrilled. The little master's screams matched it from the living room, and the ceiling began to shake as feet stamped down on it from the second floor.

"What's going on?" The Mistress rushed into the kitchen so fast that all Toaster saw was her dark hair sweeping around. She was shoved out of the way as the Mistress threw a towel over the pan's handle and shoved it, smoking mess and all, into the sink. For a few minutes, she stood gasping, and Toaster, grateful when the fire alarm finally shut off, watched as her eyes took in the entire mess of the kitchen.

For the first time, Toaster actually knew what she had done to earn that look.

Muttering under her breath, the Mistress stormed past to the broom closet and seized a mop and bucket.

"I can help," Toaster offered, however weakly.

"No, it's fine. I got this. Just like I got everything else." The Mistress shoved the mop against the counter and fished around in a drawer. "Here, you'll have to eat this." She pushed a pop tart into Toaster's hands. "It'll be a while before I buy anything else."

Sitting cautiously at the table, Toaster carefully tore the cellophane wrapping and bit off a corner. The mouthful was dry and crumbly, like watered sand. But Toaster swallowed every bite, willing herself not to complain as she watched the Mistress mutter and clean the mess with a violent fury.

Toaster had never felt so useless before.

* * *

The morning ticked by, and Toaster found herself with little to do. She knew the house well, and was eager to explore secrets she'd dreamed about from her counter top. But since the kitchen incident, she struggled to keep out of the Mistress' way. It was a feat within itself, since the woman seemed to be everywhere at once, cleaning, tending the little master, answering the phone.

The Master finally meandered downstairs around lunch to rest on the couch and watch TV. He looked wan, with dark circles under his eyes, though he offered her a smile with his greeting. Despite that, he moved restlessly as his wife ran back and forth.

"I rebooked all the appointments I could," the Mistress snapped at him at one point, when he glanced at his watch. "I just cancelled the others."

"Chris, you can't just cancel…"

"It's not like we have a choice! You can't exactly do anything with that arm!"

"I can still see my patients."

"On pain meds? Rob, don't be stupid!"

The fight made Toaster uneasy, and she slipped into the kitchen. Ratso was peering through the cage, trying to see into the living room. She tried to talk with him, but conversation was difficult with the Mistress stomping back and forth.

"Look, Chris, I'll call the others myself."

"Fine by me!"

The TV clicked off as Rob headed for his study, and the Mistress snatched up the little master before grabbing her purse.

"There's no food in the house. I've got to go to town." The door slammed.

Within minutes the house was completely still. Toaster stood in the living room, listening to the click of the clock.

"Geez," Ratso whistled. "They were really going at it this time!"

"it was my fault," Toaster said, quietly, feeling the tension in her shoulders. "I shouldn't have tried to cook anything on my own."

"Aw."Ratso's grin was surprisingly sympathetic. "I don't think all of that was your fault. You, ah," he averted his eyes and rubbed his arms, "you see the others yet?

"Yes." Toaster ran a finger over the back of a chair. "And they've seen me."

"Oh, boy."

"Were they upset?

"Is the Empire State Building in New York?"

"That's a yes, I take it." She laid her head against the doorway, wishing she could talk to them.

When the house was this quiet, she and her friends would move about freely. As it was, Toaster suddenly realized that her presence made it difficult for her friends to break that rule. She brushed away the funny feeling that caught in her throat.

"Look, Ratso," she said, straightening up. "I need to go somewhere else. Just for a little while."

"Why not try outside?" Ratso suggested, glancing out the window behind him. "It looks nice and sunny out there."

"Yeah." That encouraged her. "Yeah, I'll go outside! I've never really seen the yard before."

Resolute, she headed for the front door and flung it wide open before she could change her mind.

Hot, fresh July air greeted her. She drew in a breath before she realized she wanted to, and smiled at the warmth that settled around her. Suddenly eager, she snatched up the sneakers and socks that had been set neatly by the coat closet and stepped out onto the porch.

Yes, this was better, she decided, as she struggled to pull on the socks and sneakers. She rarely ever had a chance to go outside during the day. Not that she had often longed for it; that journey across country to the city had settled her craving for any outside needs. The body enclosed around her reveled in the experience of open space. The grass that crinkled under the sneakers seemed fresher, the sun warmer, than any of it had ever felt against her chrome. She could even ignore the nagging reminder that indoors her friends had gathered and were probably watching her from the window. She willed herself not to look, and instead focused on the vast space in front of her.

Every experience. She reminded herself. Take note of everything.

So she explored. She didn't go further than the vet clinic sign, but she inspected every mound and rock she found. She'd only just begun walking back to the pathway to see the backyard when the backdoor screen open and slammed. Hurrying to the fence, she caught sight of the Master making his way to the barn nearby. A sudden curiosity pierced her. She had never been in the surgery while the master was working. She followed after him.

The Master had been restructuring the barn to serve as a clinic. She remembered the plans he and the mistress had spent evenings pouring over, and knew that only half of them had been completed as of yet. Even now, slipping inside the front door, she could see where improvements still needed to be made in the waiting area. However, she was awed by the work the Master had done already. The room smelled clean, nearly like the hospital. But cozier; inviting.

Like the Master.

"Ouch! Damn it!" Light poured out of a nearby room through a half-opened door. Toaster could hear the Master muttering to himself as he walked around. She peeked around the door.

The Master was bent over a box, rustling for something Toaster couldn't see.

"You okay?" she asked, startled herself when he yelped again.

"Oh," he exclaimed, rubbing the sling. "Hi, Thea. Yeah, I'm fine. Just trying to find something. Did you need something?" He returned to the box.

Toaster shook her head, though her eyes darted around the room. The Master had always been well organized.

"Ah ha! Found it!" Toaster turned her gaze back to the vet again as he wielded a case of syringes. "I wasn't able to unpack this box before we left for vacation."

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Toaster asked, uncertain.

The Master flashed a weak grin in her direction, like a child who had been caught with a cookie he'd snatched.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just that Mrs. Landing will be here with her cat." He sighed. "I know Chris wanted me to I cancel, but I just can't do that."

"No, you can't," Toaster exclaimed, understanding. "You can't just not help someone."

"That's exactly what I told her. She's just…I don't know. Still upset by the accident perhaps." He ran his hand through his hair, standing it up on end. Then he paused, as though he remembered who he was talking to. "Ah, never mind. Um, could you set that box on the table over there?"

Glad to be helpful, Toaster picked up the box. She pushed back one corner to examine the instruments, marveling at them. Having spent so much time in the clinic at the university, she had watched with rapt attention every movement her master had made with the animals; the way he handled them, charted them, saw to their every ache and pain. She never realized how much she missed watching him work.

"May I watch?" she blurted out before realizing it. "Please? I've always wanted-" she stopped short of saying that she had always wanted to watch him work in his new clinic "-To see how veterinarians look after animals."

"Well..." The Master blinked at her, but smiled warmly even in his confusion. He gestured to a chair nearby. "Sure. Why not? I guess you could hang around if you wanted."

"Oh, thank you!" She hopped onto the chair, watching his every move once again.

The Master continued preparations, sending nervous grins her way every so often. But soon he was explaining each movement he made, and answering her questions without hesitation. By the time his elderly client arrived, carrying her tabby in a wicker basket, the Master was ready, and Toaster's head swam with new information. She was half out of the chair when the Master greeted his patients and instructed Mrs. Landing to place her cat on the exam table.

"Now, what's wrong with Petunia?" he asked, scratching the cat between the ears.

Toaster watched the cat sympathetically while Mrs. Landing listed each and one of Petunia's ailments. She cringed when the Master prepared a syringe.

"Don't worry, Petunia. We'll just give you a little medicine, and you'll soon feel better."

As though knowing exactly what to expect, the cat struggled and meowed pitifully. Toaster clasped her hands over her ears, unable to bear its pain.

"Easy, now, Petunia. Easy—whoa!" the Master exclaimed, as the cat unleased her claws to take a swing at him.

"Hey!" Toaster was on her feet before either he or Mrs. Landings could react, catching the cat as leapt from the table. "Don't do that! You could hurt someone!"

The cat shook as Toaster cuddled her. "He's just trying to help. Don't you want to feel better?" The cat meowed again, even more pitifully than before as it laid its head on her arm.

Toaster's disdain faded into sympathy. "Poor thing," she crooned, brushing her hand over its head. The fur felt like silk under her palm. "You must feel dreadful."

The cat seemed to understand that something was different with the new human. She relaxed under Toaster's caressing fingers, purring.

"Wow." The Master admired. "Looks like you've got a way with animals."

"She just doesn't feel well," Toaster replied softly. "I feel sorry for her."

The Master seized the opportunity. "Do you think you could hold her on the exam table while I give her the shot?"

"Sure." Toaster gently eased the cat down, hugging her as she squirmed and meowed again.

"There, there," she murmured, using the same voice that often comforted Blanky. It worked; Petunia, still tense, gentled under Toaster's touch. Swiftly, the Master administered the medicine and gave Mrs. Landings instructions for Petunia's care. Toaster lifted Petunia into the basket, stroking the ears one last time.

"Thank you, Dr. Rob." Mrs. Landings beamed at Toaster. "And thank you for being so sweet with her."

"Thank you for the help," the Master added, as the door closed behind his client. "I wouldn't have been able to handle that case alone."

Toaster warmed under his praise. "I always like feeling useful," she replied. "And I think animals are nice," she added, as warm memories from the college lab rose before her mind. Maisy and her babies…Alberto, Sebastian.

What would they would think if they saw her now?

The Master had finished disposing of the syringe needle. "Well, that's my only appointment for the day. For a while, I guess," she heard him add in an undertone. "A broken veterinarian. That's not something you see every day."

Toaster couldn't stand seeing him so forlorn. "Your arm will heal. And you'll be just fine. You're a good veterinarian."

The Master stirred himself. "Six weeks. I guess we'll see." He smiled at her. "Now, how does dinner sound?"

* * *

The smell of garlic met Toaster at the door as she stepped inside the house. She took a deep breath, thrilled with the pungent smell. Even the Mistress' terse greeting when Toaster and the Master walked into the kitchen together didn't distract her from the meal cooking.

"Mm, spaghetti." The Master attempted to kiss his wife, but the Mistress turned just in time for the kiss to land on her cheek. Even Toaster couldn't miss the disappointment in her his face. Following his gesture, she sat down at the table and accepted the plate he offered her.

"No garlic toast?" he asked, tickling the little master under the chin as he passed the highchair.

"No toaster," the Mistress snapped, placing the pot of spaghetti on the table with a thud.

"Sorry," Toaster said without thinking, listening to that strange guilt that settled in her gut.

"Why should you be sorry?" That look of hers was becoming too common. Toaster shook her head, and followed her Master's example in carefully filling her plate with spaghetti and salad. The first bite slid off her fork, though she caught the Master's grin as he pointedly demonstrated twirling his fork in the noodles. It took a few times before she could finally lift the noodles to her mouth, but oh, was it worth that first bite.

Dinner continued in some silence, except for the little Master dunking his face in the sauce and trying to push his plate off his tray.

"The auto shop called," the Mistress announced, when the mess had been prevented. "Looks like the repairs to the van are going to be more than we expected."

The Master winced. "How much more?"

"Well, say, the price of a new van." The Mistress jammed her fork into her plate.

"You've got to be kidding me." The Master pressed his hand to his forehead.

"We can keep the rental car for a few more weeks. But, after that, it will have to be the bus." The Mistress examined her salad with a frown. "Not like either of us will be going anywhere."

"We'll make it," the Master reassured her. "That's what savings are for."

"Ours will be stretched to the max before this is over." Toaster had a mouthful of spaghetti before she realized the Mistress was looking directly at her. Was she blaming her again? But, what had she done this time? She glanced at the Master, and saw him looking at her as well, though with an apologetic expression.

"Thea was a big help in the surgery today," he declared.

"Was she?" Toaster cringed under the icy tone. "Well, that's encouraging. It's good to know that someone around here is taking care of you."

"Chris…"

"Rob, you promised to cancel that appointment."

"I couldn't just cancel. I have patients that need me."

"You'll always have patients who need you. But you have to take care of yourself, too."

"Chris, please." The Master made an odd move with his shoulder towards Toaster.

"Hm?" Toaster blinked at him. "Oh! Should I leave?" She looked back and forth between the two humans, almost wishing they would say yes. She couldn't bear another argument between them.

The Mistress heaved a deep sigh as she pushed back her chair. "No, Thea, you can stay. _I'll_ leave." She shot a frustrated look at her husband before tugging the little master from his highchair.

The Master sighed before pushing back his own chair and dropping his napkin on his plate.

"Excuse me, Thea." He followed after the Mistress.

Toaster pushed her plate aside and buried her head in her hands.

"Well, that went well." Ratso broke the silence of the kitchen.

"I don't understand, Ratso," Toaster said, feeling her head ache. "I keep upsetting the Mistress somehow. What am I doing wrong?"

"Beats me. I don't think I've ever seen the Mistress that mad before." Ratso scratched his head. "I mean, she's short-tempered, but not like this. Probably something to do with losing that van"

"The poor van." Toaster twirled her fork in the remains of her dinner. "I'm going to miss her."

"Yeah, well, that's life. How's this human thing going for you?"

"I'm…not sure," Toaster admitted. "Sometimes I think I'm getting the hang of it. Other times, though." She fell silent as snatches of conversation floated from the living room.

 _"_ _Rob, this is ridiculous! She can't stay here!"_

 _"_ _She doesn't have anywhere to go."_

 _"_ _She's mental! I caught her in our room this morning, and she tried to burn down the kitchen! Good grief, she wouldn't even touch the shower last night!"_

 _"_ _She passed the pysch exam. She's just suffering from the trauma…"_

Toaster stared miserably at the plate. This was not going so well at all.

"Have the hearing aids found anything?" she asked, picking at the salad. The doorbell rang, breaking up the fight.

"They're just starting to make their calculations. Boy, I've never seen them so stumped before. You should have heard them go on and on about Einstein and improbability factors." Ratso's laugh was too loud to be genuine. Toaster could see the pity in his eyes.

She crunched on the salad, not sure if she liked the flavor of lettuce. "I wish i could speak to them…"

"Don't sweat it! That's what I'm here for. Any sign of Kirby yet?"

"No. I haven't seen him anywhere. I haven't asked…"

"Yes, I live here!" The voice thundered through the entire house. Toaster's fork clattered to the floor. "I've lived here as long as you have!"

"But I don't, I don't understand, sir…" The Master's voice faltered.

Releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding, Toaster dashed from the table into the living room. the Master and the Mistress stood at the front door, speaking to a short police officer and a tall, broad shouldered man. The stranger's mouth was set in a thin firm line, further accented by a bushy mustache, as he glared with all the ferocity of…

"Kirby!" Toaster exclaimed, throwing her hands up to her face in astonishment.

All eyes turned to her, startled from her cry. But Toaster only watched the stranger's eyes narrow at her, bringing his bushy eyebrows together. To her relief, understanding dawned over his face as he took a step towards her, his hands outstretched.

"Toaster?"


	4. But You Don't Want to Go

Chapter 4: But You Don't Want To Go

There had never been a more welcome sight in Toaster's life than the giant of a man reaching out for her. He barely had a chance to call her by name. By the time he recognized her, she had already crossed the distance between them, rushing into his open arms with a hug that cut off his breath. Never mind that she had given in to human instinct. Never mind that his body was nearly twice her size and so broad she could hardly get her arms around him. Forget that she could hear a beating heart when she pressed her cheek to him.

It was Kirby. He was alright. She wasn't alone.

For a moment she reveled in her excitement. She felt arms wrap around her in a hug that promised to be as crushing as the one she gave. For a moment, in the greatest moment of the last few days, she felt safe and wanted.

Then Kirby shoved her with such force that she toppled backwards against the Mistress. "Get off, you idiot."

Steadied by the Master and the Mistress, Toaster stared speechless into the seething face.

"What...what did I do?" she gasped.

His glare turned icy and stayed that way as the Mistress ushered them both to the couch, out of the way. Toaster tried to listen to the explanation the officer was giving the Master and Mistress, but had difficulty focusing with Kirby bristling at her side, like a rocket nearing explosion. She could just grasp that some humans had found Kirby near the scene of the accident while they were clearing away the van and had called for another ambulance.

"He's had a rough time of it, going in and out of consciousness the last few days. All we could get out of him was a last name and that he lived close by." The officer explained, handing the Mistress a sheet of paper.

"Kirby?" The Master read over her shoulder. "John Kirby?"

John? Daring, Toaster bent forward to catch a glimpse of Kirby's face. His cheek twitched, but he continued staring straight ahead.

"Anyway, the hospital found your address. They tried to call…" Toaster let the conversation fade as she focused all her attention on the man beside her; familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

"Kirby," she whispered, putting out a hand to touch his arm before thinking better of it. "Do you remember how this happened?"

"Of course, I don't remember how this happened!" Kirby growled out of the corner of his mouth. "One minute I'm getting flung everywhere. The next I wake up battered and bruised, looking like …like this!" He fisted his hands as he held out his arms before him. The faded jersey and jeans he wore stretched to their limits as he shifted. More hospital donations, Toaster decided, and obviously intended for someone less brawny. Somehow she knew Kirby wasn't talking about the clothes, though. He looked…she couldn't quite decide. It wasn't that she had ever imagined him as a human, but somehow with his short black hair and broad jaw extenuated by his fierceness, he seemed to be exactly right as a human.

She wondered, suddenly fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, if he thought the same of her. She smiled nervously at him, but froze when he turned a full accusing look in her direction. "As matter of fact, I should be asking you that question!"

"Me?" She sunk back into the couch as he towered over her. "But…but I don't remember what happened either!"

"You expect me to believe that?"

"But…it's true."

"…They do seem to know each other." Toaster realized that they had caught the humans' attention. "At least, Thea knew his name…"

"Of course, she knows my name!" Kirby barked at them, his tolerance worn thin. "We've known each other for years!"

"But, you said you lived here?" the Master asked in confusion.

"I…I only meant I used to live here. We both did." Toaster ducked her head as Kirby flung out his arm. "We were coming back for a look when the accident happened. Then I lost track of her!" Kirby crossed his arms, then hesitated, glancing down in surprise at what he had done. Toaster couldn't help a laugh, but immediately snapped her mouth shut when Kirby turned on her again.

"I don't see what's so funny! You go doing hair-brained things like you always do, and i end up in a mess! Every single time!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Toaster completely forgot that the humans were watching as she felt her own temper rising.

"It means this is your fault!" Kirby shoved himself off the couch.

"How is it my fault?"

"You did something, I know it! You're always poking yourself into things that aren't your business! And now I'm like this, locked away in who knows where for who knows how long!"

"I don't know this happened!" Finally feeling her own cool dissolve, Toaster leaped to her feet on the couch cushions to stare him down. "I don't know how any of it happened!"

"Yeah. Right."

"Don't you blame this on me…"

The little master's sudden wail interrupted their fight. All eyes were drawn to where he stood by his toys, bawling his head off.

"Okay, okay, enough!" The Mistress thrust her way between Toaster and Kirby, her arms pushing both apart. "Cool it! I've about had it! Thea, get down before you fall off!" Toaster winced as the Mistress yanked her down from the couch by her arm. "Officer, thanks for your help! Now, go home! Obviously, we'll have to talk about this in the morning. John can just stay here until we get it figured out, and apparently, we're not doing that tonight! Rob, go grab some spare sheets so I can make up the couch for him. Thea… just go upstairs! Everyone got it? Good! I'm putting Robbie to bed."

Everyone moved aside as she snatched up her baby and stomped up the stairs. They watched her retreat in silence, waiting until she disappeared from sight before venturing to move. Feeling utterly rebuked, Toaster rubbed her arm as she obeyed the Mistress' order, Kirby's accusing glare thoroughly stinging her with each step she took. In the guest bedroom, she stretched out on the bed, only listening to the sounds downstairs as Kirby's release papers were signed and the couch was made up for him to sleep on. It ended with the Master and the Mistress's heated argument in their bedroom, pounding against the walls. Though she couldn't make out a single word, she didn't need to guess what the fight was about.

Sleep pricked at the back of her head, but she fought it off stubbornly until the argument faded away and the house quieted. Then and only then did she feel free to slip out of the room and down the stairs.

The clock ticked fifteen past 11:00 as her feet creaked on the steps. She paused halfway down to glance over the dark living room, straining her eyes.

Kirby lay like a large dark lump on the couch, stiller than death.

"Go away," he snapped back when she called him softly, not caring to lower his voice.

"Kirby, can't we just talk?" she begged, taking another step.

"What's left to say?"

"That this isn't…Kirby…I didn't…"

"Don't you start that again with me!"

"But how could you even think…?"

"I don't think! I know it!" The lump moved. Toaster still couldn't see him, but even she froze as she felt his eyes in full on her again. "I know exactly what you are capable of doing! And I don't want to argue about it anymore!"

"But…"

"Go away and…and leave me alone!" There was a catch in his voice that Toaster had never heard before. "I've…I've had enough…tonight. Go…go away."

The lump disappeared into the couch cushions again. Toaster stretched a hand out towards him, but felt it waver as weariness began its hold on her again. There wasn't anything she could do tonight, anyway.

"Good night, Kirby." There was no answer, except a heavy sigh that ended in a gasp. With a deep sigh, Toaster climbed the steps with leaden feet and a heart that had caught in her throat.

* * *

If Kirby had hoped that it was all a nightmare, the cruel realization that woke him dashed that hope. He almost half expected to open his eyes once more to a white ceiling and shaded lighting above his head, followed by the stench of bleach pervading his nostrils. The sight of the beige ceiling of the McGroarty living room nearly made him weep with relief.

Nearly.

The thudding his new ribcage reminded him sharply that he wasn't a vaccum cleaner, and the soreness from the stitches at the back of his head echoed that fact. He lay still on the couch, feeling the blanket slipping off and watching the sunlight peep in through the glass over the front door. In the quiet of the morning, the voices from his memory began their same relentless questions.

What was his name? Where had he come from? What did he remember? What was his NAME? WHAT did he REMEMBER?

He remembered the trip, and Toaster saying something about being home soon, and then the van…the van…

"Kirby," he'd gasped, when his voice suddenly found itself in that choking, raw throat.

First name?

"Kirby," he'd insisted.

John Kirby ended up on the paperwork instead. Either those humans didn't want to listen or were too dense to understand. There was no first name. There was no last name. He was Kirby. He was Kirby, Kirby, Kirby…

He tried to turn his face away from the sun now glaring in his eyes, and sucked in a breath at the sharp stab by his ear. His hand reached up to touch the stitches, and felt the rough short hairs that now covered the top of his head.

Kirby swallowed. Even when the staff had listened, they had taken forever to understand him. No, he wasn't missing. Of course he didn't know where he was or how he'd come to be there. Yes, he'd been in an accident…he must have been in an accident…He was coming back from a trip…

"With a woman?"

"What woman?" he'd snapped, staring at the startled face of his doctor. There hadn't been anyone in the car with the master. The Mistress had gone into the house.

Then he had seen it right before him, face beaming and eyes laughing in that new human shape. That roly thing in baggy clothes, with tangled frizz popping at odd angles to frame a round face. It…she…was Toaster. They'd been talking about the toaster.

And he'd known exactly who to blame.

He felt the blanket tugging and let it fall the rest of the way to the floor. The cool morning chilled him, and he shifted restlessly. Yes, he knew exactly who to blame now.

Why had Toaster let this happen to him? The same rage that had shook him the night before boiled inside him again. How could she laugh, smile, knowing perfectly well what had happened to him? To both of them? He didn't want to talk to her, or answer any more questions. He just wanted one answer.

What was he supposed to do now?

He slowly pushed himself up, feeling the clothes tug around him; donations from some homeless shelter. Frankly, he didn't care if the humans had dug them up from the trash, though he knew from their smell that they might as well have just tossed them in there. It was far too early to move, but he couldn't stand the way the couch pushed into his sore muscles any longer. Dizziness attacked him as he moved, and he had to rest his head in his hands. He uncovered his eyes only when the dizziness had passed, finding himself looking once again at the long scratches his new nails had left on his arms. He'd fought to get away; from the hospital and the strangers or the new skin he'd woken in he wasn't sure. He'd just tried to get away.

He still wanted to get away. But even getting to his feet took effort. Seeing the floor from so high up was dizzying. He clutched his head, trying to fight the world spinning around him, spinning in more ways than one as his thoughts screamed across their own roller coaster track.

This wasn't fair. This just wasn't fair. He'd never wanted to be human. He'd never asked to be human. Why? How could Toaster have let this happen?

"Kirby?" He stiffened as his name reached him and dropped his hands, throwing a suspicious look towards the stairs.

"Good gravy!" The voice was coming from the edge of the kitchen, where a tiny rodent was poking his head around the edge of the kitchen doorway. "It really is you!"

"R-Ratso," Kirby exclaimed, as the rat scurried towards his feet.

"Geez, I heard them all shouting last night, and you and Toaster…boy, were you fighting something fierce! But I couldn't see anything…" He could barely see the rat, and trying to bend down for a closer look only made his sore muscles scream in protest. "Geez, just look at you!"

"No," Kirby muttered, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'm…I'm not looking again." A nurse in the emergency room had brought him a mirror, thinking she was doing him a favor when he asked what he looked like, but he couldn't even look at the stranger glaring back.

"Whoa, easy big guy!" he heard Ratso exclaim. "You don't look so good. Maybe, ah, you oughta sit down."

"Yeah," he agreed, falling back on the couch.

Ratso scurried up the side until he stood on an armrest at Kirby's side. "Boy, this just gets weirder and weirder. You and Toaster figure this out yet?"

"I'm not talking to the toaster again," he snapped, surprised by his own ferocity.

"Okay, okay!" Ratso flung up his paws to ward Kirby off. "Geez! I just thought maybe between the two of youse you'd finally figured out what happened."

"I don't know how this happened! I…I don't remember anything."

"Yeah, well, figures. That's exactly what Toaster said. I guess that crash knocked you out just like it did her."

"It."

"Her."

"It." Kirby lowered his hand to glare at Ratso, feeling that boiling rage again.

Ratso appeared unconcerned. "Look, I don't know if you've noticed, but the Toaster sorta has a gender now."

Kirby gritted his teeth. "I couldn't help but notice."

"Well, geez, you ain't taking this well."

"Look at me!" Kirby thrust out his arms before he realized he was going to, and winced as they collided with the back of the couch. "How exactly am I supposed to take this well?"

"Look, big guy, cool down. I know it's rough, but I've got the hearing aids all over it." Ratso thumbed in direction of the junk drawer. "They'll get this figured in no time at all."

"They can turn me back into a vacuum?" Kirby asked.

"Well…" Ratso suddenly attended to an itch in his arm. "They can figure out what happened, anyway…"

"I knew it." Kirby dropped his head into his hands, gripping at the hair until his scalp ached. "I…I'm stuck like this. I don't understand. How could the Toaster have done this to me?"

"Um…I don't think this was the Toaster's doing, Kirby."

"You don't know it the way I do!" Kirby gripped handfuls of the hair on his head until his scalp ached.

"Her."

"It."

"Whatever!" Ratso gave up with a sigh. "Boy, try to help a guy," Kirby heard him mutter under his breath.

"You can help me," Kirby demanded, nearly knocking Ratso off the couch, "by trying to change me back!"

"Okay, okay!" Ratso scambled to right himself on the couch arm. "Like I said, the hearing aids are trying to figure something out. But you gotta find a way to calm down. The Mistress is already-"

A door shut upstairs, and the little master's voice chirped as the stairs began to echo with footsteps.

Darting faster than a rocket, Ratso raced back through the kitchen, just as the Mistress appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Kirby met her eyes with as much surprise as she had; maybe even more so, as he realized suddenly that he was not straining to look up to see her.

"Oh, good morning. Um…John, right?" She tried to offer him a weak smile, but her cheek twitched.

Kirby nodded slowly, suddenly unsure what to say. He'd never spoken to the Mistress before, and the night before he'd been too agitated to bother with semantics.

"I, uh, hope you slept on the couch okay." She was shifting from one foot to another. "Sorry about that. Our guest room is sort of occupied."

Realizing that he was staring too intently at her, Kirby glanced at the floor with a nod.

"It's fine." He winced at the brusqueness and cleared his throat to try again. "I…appreciate your help."

Whatever the Mistress mumbled was drowned out by the little Master's babble. Unable to help himself, Kirby snuck a peek at the baby, relieved to see him, all smiles, bouncing on his mother's hip. He was hardly prepared, however, for the baby to suddenly lunge forward with both arms stretched out to him.

"Robbie!" The Mistress hadn't been prepared for it either. She caught him just before he tumbled to the floor. "What's gotten into you?"

Kirby, watching the happy little face, felt his cheeks warm. He remembered the touch of the soft little hands on his chrome, and the familiar little eyes peering down at him. He returned that smile, feeling more like himself than he had in days. Ignoring the Mistress' apologies, he leaned forward on the couch and held out his own arms to the baby.

The little master laughed and slapped his little hands against Kirby's palms. Kirby's hearted soared as he took the baby into his arms.

"I…wow…" Kirby roused as the Mistress bent towards them. "I've never seen him so excited before. When he saw Thea…" He glanced up as she hesitated and shook her head.

"This is just too weird," she finally said, hands on her hips. "Look, I'll bet you're hungry," she added. "We didn't really get a chance to talk last night, and I…I've got some questions."

"I won't have any answers." The blunt answer surprised even him.

"Oh." The Mistress knit her eyebrows as she took that in. "Okay. Fair enough, I…I guess. At least you're honest," she added, glancing up the stairs as if to indicate that there was someone who was not.

Kirby didn't really care. He did, however, feel the loss when she took the little master again; even more strongly than he had felt the loss of his appliance form. He couldn't tell if he was following her into the kitchen for the promise of breakfast, or if he was following the little master, the only thing in the world that made sense. But either way, he found himself only moments later seated at the table beside the little master in his highchair. The Mistress attempted some who and why questions, but soon realized that what Kirby had said was true enough. He had no answers for her.

"This is just unbelievable," he heard her mutter into the fridge, and he knew well enough what she meant.

"I can't believe this is happening either," he agreed.

"Yeah? Well, don't take this the wrong way, John." The Mistress added, slamming the fridge closed and putting down bananas and applesauce on the table. Kirby pressed a hand to his belly as it grumbled in response to the sight of food. "I'm not sure you and Thea being here is a good idea. I understand you guys came back for a look at the house, but my husband and I have our hands full. We have a baby and a business and a broken van that needs to be fixed with money we don't have…"

The little master, for some reason Kirby could never understand, suddenly decided he didn't like the applesauce his mother was holding out. With a laugh, the baby stood up in his highchair and smacked both bowl and jar from her hands. They landed on the floor with a crash that sent applesauce splattering everywhere.

"ROBBIE!" Even Kirby cowered. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WHY?"

The baby shook and shrunk back into his highchair at his mother's scream, before bursting into tears. Kirby aghast, watched the Mistress fling herself down to pick up the pieces, not sure if he was startled by the way she had yelled at her son or by the way her sobbing matched the baby's.

"This isn't fair." She cried. She gave up trying to pick up the glass and sat back on her heels to bury her face in her hands. "This isn't fair…"

The spectacle went straight to Kirby's heart. Ignoring even the hunger rumbling in him, he found himself reaching for the sobbing woman. His hand rested on her shoulder, just long enough for her to raise a tear stained face to him. Kirby knew that look all too well. He hadn't been a vacuum cleaner for nothing without knowing the feeling of a burdened spouse about to have a nervous breakdown. The master's mother had cried on his handle often enough while trying to keep everything together. About the only comfort Kirby could offer in those moments was to rev up as much power as he could muster to keep the floors clean.

Now, revving a new sort of power, he cleared his throat.

"Don't be upset," he declared, gruffly. "Accidents…happen."

The Mistress' mouth quivered, and she shook her head. "This…has never happened."

Somehow he knew she didn't just mean the applesauce, or the way the little master was still carrying on. A twinge in his heart made him realize that there were worse problems than his own. He shared a momentary exchange with the tired, worried mother on the floor: a broken husband, a screaming baby that depended on her, two complete strangers that had come from nowhere…

Overwhelmed, Kirby suddenly reached across the table and scooped the little master up in his arms.

"Come on now, that's enough," he huffed bouncing him on one arm. "You're alright. It was an accident!" The little master hiccupped, and his crying turned to whimpers as he studied Kirby's face. Even quicker than Kirby believed possible, the baby's face crinkled into his usual smile. He giggled and grabbed Kirby's shirt with both hands.

"Wow." The Mistress wiped tears from her eyes as she looked up at them. "You're…you're really good with babies."

Kirby couldn't quite decide how to answer without giving himself away, but the Mistress had turned her attention back to the mess. "Do you think…I know it's a lot to ask. I mean…would you…?"

"Clean up the mess?" Kirby surveyed the mess on the floor. Tile wasn't really his area of expertise, but he could already see that the dish towel had grabbed from the table wouldn't do the mess. He needed a mop and strong gloves for cleaning up the glass.

"…Actually I thought you'd take Robbie into the living room and let him eat a banana at least…" The Mistress was struggling to rise, and Kirby's hand shot out to help her up before he realized he could. "This is kind of a tough mess."

"I've never fed a baby before," Kirby admitted, wincing as the little master tugged at his mustache. He passed the baby into the Mistress' arms and took the dishtowel from her hand. "But I have cleaned up messes far worse than this one."

"But…you don't have to…I mean…you shouldn't have to…"

Yes, she was right. But Kirby felt his chest pounding as his mind began to painstaking gather everything he needed for the disaster. Finally, something he knew to do. "You just go take care of him. I know how to handle this."

Her thanks were lost on him as he tossed the dishtowel aside and headed for the utility closet. Just focus on the mess, he instructed himself, seizing the mop and bucket. Just clean up the mess. After that…we'll see…

He forgot himself in the midst of cleaning the floor. Somewhere in the middle of scrubbing, fumbling with the gloves and the mop and stretching and bending joints he had never once possessed, he forgot that he was human. He forgot that he didn't want to be human. He only remembered the satisfaction of attacking dust and dirt until they were both gone entirely, and in almost no time at all the tile was sparkling.

Then, in cold emptiness, he remembered the mess that he was still in.

From the living room he could hear the Mistress chatting to the little Master. His stomach, ignored easily, began to make itself heard in efforts that sent bile to his throat. How he hated that sensation, and the other that his human mind conjured: a dry, thick sensation that his throat refused to swallow away. One glance sight at the faucet, though, answered it for him. He stumbled across the floor and nearly wrenched the handle trying to let the water run. With a mumbled apology to his old friend, he dipped head and gulped as much of the water as he could.

Damn it! He'd never been thirsty in his life. Letting the awful truth sink in, even as his body thanked him for the drink, he rested his arms on the edge of the sink.

"They do have cups." Kirby groaned as the last voice he ever wanted to hear spoke softly behind him. He turned to look at Toaster hesitating in the doorway, her hair even wilder than he remembered, and her eyes mournfully watching him.

"Oh, yeah? Never would have guessed." He shoved himself away from the sink and snatched up one of the bananas from the table, trying to ignore her. For moment, turning the fruit this way and that, it wasn't too difficult.

"Just how do you open one of these things anyway?" he muttered, as much to himself as to the figure watching him silently.

"You could just cut it in half, like the Mistress does."

"How about you mind your own business!" Kirby snapped, trying to twist the top stem off.

He heard the Toaster heave a deep sigh as she dragged her feet across the floor. "Fine, don't let me help you, dust head."

Dust head. He grit his teeth to hold back his answer at that stupid name. They'd always called him names, and Toaster had been the worst out of all of them.

The stem snapped, and he waved it triumphantly before her eyes.

She sighed again and sat in a chair across from him. "Can't we just talk about this?"

"You got ideas, I'll be happy to hear them." He bit into the fruit-just a small bite. Gulping down the broth they'd given him at the hospital and choking it up again had been a hard lesson in treating food carefully. He chewed the odd texture thoughtfully, before swallowing deliberately to make sure it stayed down. It wasn't until the Toaster giggled that he realized she'd been watching him.

"Making fun of me again," he thundered at her. "Well, sure. Let's turn Kirby into a human and see how funny that is!"

That squelched the laughter fast and whatever smile there had been on her face. Even Kirby couldn't help noting the deep circles in the skin under her eyes.

"For the last time, this isn't my fault!" Her voice rose an octave. "I don't know how this happened, and I sure don't know how to change it!"

"Sounds like you got problem, then, slot head!" As if that name had ever insulted her.

"Kirby, we're dealing with the same problem. Can't we…" A wistful note crept into her voice. "Can't we do this together?"

Yes. An eager shout in the back of his mind begged him. It reminded him of the hospital, waking up alone, friendless, and now a familiar face was here to help.

 _But it's not familiar_. That horrible rage consumed him, and he settled for cramming as much of the banana into his mouth as possible, forget choking. _It's not familiar at all. It's not Toaster now. It's...She's…_

"Oh, hey, Thea." The Master entered the kitchen. Kirby looked up in time to see him pause by Toaster and place a hand on her shoulder in greeting. "You don't look like you got enough sleep."

"Neither do you." The Toaster's face lit up she tipped her head towards him, one hand warmly clasping his. Kirby could see the adoration in her eyes, the same worshipping look he'd had to endure every single day of his life...

He slapped the peel down so hard the table shook and the two jumped.

"Good morning, John." The Master grinned sheepishly at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Miserable," Toaster exclaimed before Kirby could answer. "He had a bad night, and it's made him GRUMPY." Kirby seethed at the innocent smile she plastered on her face, as well as the way she tilted her head to one side, watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, the couch isn't exactly comfortable." The Master shrugged, missing the silent fight that passed between the two. "Maybe Chris knows where my old camping cot is. We can set that up for you instead… if you don't have any other plans."

Other plans. Kirby snorted.

"You look ridiculous like that," he hissed at Toaster, as the Master began searching through the cabinets.

"You're one to talk," she shot back in an undertone. "Did you get that thing on your face from Ratso?"

He guffawed, fighting back the urge to run his fingers over the mustache. "At least I don't have some filthy mop on my head." He sat back in another triumph as that smug look fell away and her hands flew to her hair.

"Rob, please tell me you remembered to take your pain meds before you came down." The Mistress' voice proceeded her appearance in the kitchen.

The Master heaved a deep breath as he tucked a loaf of bread under his arm and struggled with a jam jar from one of the cabinets. "No, Honey, I'm a complete idiot devoid of all pain," Kirby heard him mutter under his breath.

"What was that?" The Mistress swept around to look at her husband's face.

"I said, yes. I took the medication. I'm a vet, I know how medication is used."

"That doesn't mean you'll actually take it."

"Chris, knock it off!" The Master, still struggling to maintain a grip on the jar, released the cabinet door. They all winced as it slammed shut. The toaster's eyes had dropped to the table, and her fingers were nervously playing at a tangle in the hair. Kirby gulped as regret washed over him.

"I…I really didn't mean to slam it…" the master stammered.

Kirby saw the hard look that passed over the Mistress' face.

"Yes, you did," she said in a low voice, before busying herself at the sink.

The Master stood for a moment in silence before setting the jam on the table. His hand shook, and the load of bread slipped from his grasp. both Toaster and Kirby leaped for it at the same time.

"…Thanks…" The Master went completely unnoticed as Kirby and Toaster gripped both the loaf and each other's hands. Kirby could feel the warmth in Toaster's fingers, and in his bewilderment, he locked eyes with her, seeing a sliver of hope return. He quickly released her and the bread, and folded his arms as he sat back in the chair.

"Okay, this is ridiculous!" The Mistress abruptly shut off the water and whirled around to address all of them. "Rob, we have to address the elephant in the room."

"Right now?" Just managing to pop open the jar, the Master suddenly realized that he had forgotten a spoon. He gave up and dumped a generous helping on a slice of bread. "I haven't even eaten yet."

"Yes, now." The Mistress came up behind his chair, her gaze darting between Toaster and Kirby. "Because I have two complete strangers in my house."

"Chris!"

"It's the truth." Her voice was as firm as her words. Kirby knew an apologetic look when he saw one, though, as he returned her gaze. "I'm not trying to be mean, guys. I just…I don't know where you came from or where you're going…"

"We came from here." Toaster's voice was unusually soft. Kirby couldn't help but notice that she had shifted in her chair as far from the Mistress as she could move.

"Okay, yeah, I get that. John explained it. You came back for a visit. But what…?"

"We don't have anywhere to go." Toaster's sob followed punctuated the answer. Silence fell as all three watched her lay her head on her arms and sob with deep, shaking sobs. The Master's jam laden bread dropped to the table as he stretched out his good arm to pat her back.

A horrible feeling passed over Kirby as he watched her. He'd caused this. He'd caused…He swallowed, and ended up gagging as the food he'd just eaten threatened to make a quick appearance. With a gasp, the Mistress shoved the mop bucket into his hands just in time for the food to come frothing past his lips. It burned badly, and he could barely focus on anything else. A glass of water replaced the bucket, and he gratefully sipped from it as the Mistress held the glass steady.

"Chris, can't we talk about this later?" he heard the Master begging. "Nobody feels well enough to work this out yet."

"Yeah." The Mistress sounded strangled. She set the glass on the table. "Fine. You're right. You're always right. We'll just deal with this later." Kirby watched her walk out of the room, her hand covering her mouth as though to hold back sobs of her own. The Master quietly urged Toaster up from the table and guided her up the stairs.

"You just got out of the hospital," he was saying, as her sobs faded. "You just need some more rest. We all need some more rest."

In a moment, Kirby was at alone in the kitchen. His head spun, and though he forced himself to take another sip of the water, he could feel his body rebelling. Somehow, he made his way back to the couch, and lay back again, watching where the little Master played, blissfully unaware of the adults falling to pieces around him. Though soothed by the baby's peace of mind, Kirby couldn't completely drown out the two veins of sobbing as he fell asleep.

* * *

Toaster woke from her nap to a runny nose, a pounding head, and a despondency that bested both of them. She sat up on the guest bed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve several times. She'd slept dreamlessly, with only the Master's encouraging voice in her head telling her that everything would be alright and it would all work out.

To her bewilderment, She wasn't sure she believed him.

She moved to sit up, crossing her legs and resting her head in her hands as a cold ache pounded in her temples. What was wrong with this body? She never been that miserable before. She'd been sad, yes, and she'd cried certainly. But never like this. And she certainly had never been so upset by Kirby before. Kirby had always been a grump, but he had never, ever menaced her like that.

How was she going to handle emotions this strong?

A soft tap rapped against the door as the handle turned. The Master's red head poked around the side.

"Oh, hey," he said in a low voice. "You're awake. You feel better?"

She wiped her nose once more and forced a smile as she nodded.

"Yeah. Me, too." The Master didn't look like he believed her. "These have been a tough couple of days."

"I'm sorry," she said, finding her voice still hoarse.

"Nah, it's not your fault." He sat on the edge of the bed, ruffling through his pockets. His hand fished out a pocket of tissues, and he handed them to her, smiling all the way. "Chris has always been kinda high strung."

"Is she mad at us? Me and Kirby, I mean." The tissue made it easier to clear her nose.

The Master sighed. "Probably more upset at me. We...There were some things I shouldn't have said last night."

Toaster cringed, remembering their fight. The Master looked even more miserable as he studied the bedspread.

"Never go to bed angry. I guess I should have listened to my folks." His face cleared, though, as he looked back at her. "I was just on my way out to the clinic. A patient just called, and I can't, uh,…" He rubbed a hand nervously through his hair. "…It's an emergency."

"Right." Toaster nodded eagerly.

"You, ah, you want to come?" Rob's eyes crinkled under his glasses. "You seemed to like helping with Petunia, and…I don't know if I can handle this one alone either."

Toaster didn't have to force the smile this time. "Yes! Please!"

Rob patted her knee and jerked his head toward the door. She followed his example of moving carefully in the hallway and down the stairs.

Robbie played in the corner with his toys, and Kirby slept stretched out on the couch, his face pressed into the cushions. Toaster lingered by him while the Master fetched his keys and checked over the baby. She wondered if she and Kirby would ever be able to get past this. Her hand twitched, and she brushed her fingers over the heavy wrinkles in the forehead.

The wrinkles eased, and Kirby sighed in his sleep.

"Come on." The Master touched her shoulder, and she followed him out.

* * *

Something woke Kirby from sleep, though he lay motionless for sometime trying to figure out what it had been. Stairs had creaked in his sleep, voices whispering. He glanced over at the front door, wondering if someone had left. It was another hour before the Mistress came down the stairs again, water splashed on her face in an attempt to wash away the tears stains. Kirby, carefully sitting up on the couch, could still see her red nose and swollen eyes. Her smile at him was still warm, however.

"Your stomach feel better?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Kirby hesitated, straining to feel it. "I guess," he said. "Nothing has tried to…come back up anyway."

"That's good. Maybe it's worth trying to eat something else. Some jello, maybe." She sank down into an armchair across from him, near to where Robbie was playing with his toys.

"Rob isn't upstairs. He's probably out at the clinic." She snorted. "He never could stop for anything. But Thea's door was closed, so she must still be sleeping."

Kirby frowned, touching his forehead where some sensation lingered.

"I guess I should check on her, too. I mean, she wasn't in such great shape after the accident either…" She trailed off. "John, I didn't meant to upset her earlier. You…you understand, right?"

"Of course, I understand," Kirby replied, searching her downcast eyes as she pretended to watch her son. "You just wanted answers. it wasn't your fault anyway," he added, as sudden reminder of Toaster's eyes filling with tears struck him.

She finally raised her face to him relieved. "That's exactly what I wanted," she exclaimed, not having heard his last sentence. "It's not like I'm trying to throw anyone out into the street. If you really don't have a place to go…?"

It took him a moment to realize that she was posing a question at him. Perhaps she was afraid of upsetting him, too. Kirby nearly snorted, finding it difficult to imagine breaking down into tears, even in his new state. But, how to explain the problem to the Mistress was a difficult issue. What had Toaster told them? Anything?

"Maybe Rob's right," she continued, before he could think of anything to say, "I'm trying to make decisions too fast. I can't help it. There's so much I have to think about." She returned to gazing at the little master, her face straining as every though every thought she had was passing before her eyes.

"We'll have to take out a loan just to repair the van, and we have still those medical bills. Not just Rob's, but Thea's, too, and…" She stopped the thought abruptly, but Kirby, remembering the hospital himself, knew he was included in that thought. "…I just don't how long our savings can hold out. And Rob can't work with the state he's in, so I'll-I'll have to find a job. I used to be an accountant. Surely, there's someone around here who needs one. But who's going to look after Robbie while I'm working? It's so much..."

And what about him? Kirby found his own eyes riveting on the baby playing and laughing to himself. What if those hearing nutjobs couldn't find a solution? What if he-and the toaster-were stuck as humans forever? What would they do? Just sleep and wander around the house all day? What use were they without those prime directives that had guided them their whole lives?

"No." The Mistress exclaimed, bolting upright in the chair. "I'm just worrying! I have to take this one step at a time. And the first step should be lunch." She rose from the chair. "especially some easy on your stomach this time. How does chicken noodle soup sound?". It didn't really sound like anything special. But Kirby nodded his head anyway, and stood to follow her. Immediately on seeing him stand, the little master struggled to his own feet and came barreling up to take his hand.

Kirby, surprised, felt the little fingers grab two of his own, and he smiled a deep, satisfied smile, allowing the little boy to lead him into the kitchen.

* * *

"Easy, sweetheart, easy…" Rob's voice made up the silence as Toaster concentrated on the task before them. She couldn't tell if he was talking to her or the rabbit she held on the exam table. Under her hands, the brown lopbunny shivered from shock, still bleeding from the teeth marks in its left ear and side leg. Toaster felt tears pricking her eyes as the Master continued to disinfect the areas he had shaved fur from.

Outside, the rabbit's fourteen-year-old owner was still sobbing over the attack.

"I just let him out in the yard for a minute," she'd cried, almost as soon as her mother's car had pulled up in front of the clinic. "I didn't know the Rottweiler was loose in the neighborhood."

There wasn't any time to comfort her either as the Master had Toaster take the rabbit from her and carry it into the surgery.

"There we go." The master held up the cotton ball as he examined the wound. "Thanks," he said, offhand as Toaster took it from him.

"That's all we can do," he said at last, straightening up.

"Will he make it?" she asked, worriedly, watching the poor little thing quiver. She grabbed the nearest rag she could find to wrap around him.

"The bleeding has stopped, and the wounds don't look too bad. We just need to keep him quiet and still. If he makes it through the afternoon, he's got a chance." Under the Master's instruction, Toaster placed the rabbit in a nearby little unit, petting the head one more time before closing the door and covering it with a dark sheet. While she worked, she could hear the master explaining his procedure and concerns to the two humans waiting outside.

"...Call you this evening," he said over his shoulder as he came back in. Toaster watched him silently as he noted something on his laptop nearby.

"You alright?" she asked, as he winced.

"Yeah, I just don't like seeing anything hurt like that. It's cruel and nasty. And now I have to call animal control about a dog that some idiot couldn't even take the time to train. They'll have to lock it up, or, or put it down..." He caught himself and offered her a sheepish smile as he rubbed at his cast. "I'm just being a downer, Thea. Don't take it personally. You've been a real help."

Pleasure flowed over her. "I enjoyed it." Her eyes widened as the master raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I don't like seeing anyone hurt, and I was glad to help…" _You_ "…the rabbit."

"I know the feeling." The master adjusted his glasses with his free hand. "I don't like seeing animals in pain either. I don't like to see them helpless." He chuckled. "I don't like to see anything helpless, actually. If I can keep it from being locked up, tortured, or thrown out, I would."

"You never throw anything away," Toaster agreed, looking him over fondly.

"Huh?"

Toaster flushed, realizing her error. "Oh, uh…I noticed you have a lot of…older…appliances around."

The master accepted the explanation with another chuckle. "Yeah, I do. Some of them are things my folks used when I was a kid. Others…well, it doesn't seem fair to just toss things aside just because they've stopped working." Toaster watched him stroke the keys on the surgery computer. "Those things from my childhood…well, I didn't really have a lot of friends growing up. It's just comfortable to have them around. Old friends."

"Old friends," Toaster agreed, flushing again. "you're so wonderful."

"You think?" The Master suddenly busied himself cleaning up the table which he'd already wiped down.

Toaster laughed. She'd embarrassed him. "You are so kind and thoughtful!"

"And you have one happy laugh," he stated. "You are such a happy person."

"Is that alright?" she asked, reaching up to touch her hair again, as though happiness was as problematic as the tangles her fingers kept catching."

"Well, it wouldn't be much of a world without happy people, would it?"

That was the best observation she'd heard all day. Without a second thought, she put her arms around the Master for a hug; something she'd always wanted to do. The one handed hug he gave her was awkward and punctuated with his nervous laugh, but its genuine warmth was exactly what she had wanted for days. It erased the nastiness of Kirby's glares and the Mistress's biting, distrustful looks. Toaster could only hope, as the master patted her head, that he felt just as comforted by her touch.

"Well, don't let me interrupt anything." They both jumped apart at the sound of the Mistress' voice. Toaster's heart sank as the Master released her and the moment passed.

"Chris…"

"Lunch is ready. Just come and find me when you've got a sec. You know? Your wife? The veterinary widow." The Mistress's eyes darted to Toaster before she slammed the door shut behind her.

Toaster wrapped her arms around herself as the master groaned. She didn't quite understand, but knew somehow, once again, this was her fault.

* * *

They couple was already disappearing from the kitchen and up the stairs when Toaster entered the kitchen, but she could guess from the surprise on Kirby's face that the argument had already started.

"What did you do now?" he demanded, sounding more bewildered then accusing as he rose from the kitchen table.

Toasteronly shook her head and passed by him into the living room. She took a seat at the bottom of the staircase, listening to the shouting upstairs; none of it intelligible.

"I thought you were still upstairs." Kirby had followed her. He towered over her, though it occurred to Toaster that he didn't quite know how to handle his newfound height. She tried not to cower.

"The Master asked me to help him in the clinic."

"You? Why?"

"Because he needs help." Toaster snapped. "Haven't you noticed that his arm's in a cast?"

"Of course, I noticed." Kirby bristled at her, folding his arms. He backed away from her though, and Toaster breathed in relief. "Anybody can see that he needs help."

"Exactly."

"That's why the mistress went out. To talk to him about getting help." The eyes were watching her curiously, the bushy eyebrows menacing. "So why are they arguing again?"

"How should I know! She saw me, and she just…she just…" Slowly, it dawned on Toaster. "She saw _me_. Every time she sees _me_. Kirby." Tears were swelling at the corner of her eyes. "She doesn't like me."

"That's not true." Kirby suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "And don't cry again. You…you look ridiculous when you cry."

"I can't help it." Toaster could hear the sob in her voice, and she tried to swallow it back. "She doesn't like me, and the master needs me, and I don't know what to do…" She buried her face in her hands.

 _You look ridiculous when you cry…you look ridiculous when you cry._

No, that just made everything ache worse.

Then, she felt the touch on her hair; light and gentle, like fingers still clumsy with their function. Her tears stopped in their tracks, replaced by a hope that the touch would linger.

A door upstairs slammed, and before Toaster could raise her head, the touch was gone. She blinked up to find Kirby leaning against the couch, as far away from her as he could get, staring up at the top of the staircase.

She barely had enough time to scramble to her feet as the Mistress stormed down the steps. The Mistress stopped directly in front of her, arms crossed and face unbearably cold. Toaster leaned against the railing for support, and protection, she suddenly realized, gulping under that cold look.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that!" the Mistress exploded, clenching her fists. "Why do you always look at me like I'm going to hit you? I don't hurt people! I'm not the bad guy...! Ugh!" She shut her eyes and drew in a breath. Toaster glanced up to find the Master coming slowly down the stairs behind her, watching her with as much caution as toaster felt.

"You're not getting kicked out," the Mistress finally said in a calmer voice. "Either of you." She included Kirby with a wave of her hand. "This is…a bad situation…but we can handle this." The Master rested his good hand on her shoulder, and the Mistress took another breath. "I'm going to the basement to find Rob's cot for John. Maybe we can set it up in the laundry room…or the kitchen…I don't know. We'll figure it out."

Toaster quickly moved aside as the Mistress headed for the basement.

"Don't worry, Thea," the Master said when his wife had gone. He looked haggard and tired, but at least he could manage a smile. "it's going to be okay,"

"Are you sure?" Toaster asked, risking a glance at Kirby. His expression gave her no comfort whatsoever.

"Yeah, I am." Rob ran a hand through his hair. "Chris just... It's just…" He made some expression with his fingers, as though there were no words to describe. "Look, I really appreciate the help you've given me."

"You're welcome."

"And I'd really like it if you kept helping." Toaster could hardly believe her ears. She clasped her hands together.

"Really?"

Now he truly smiled; that old boyish smile of his. "Really. It's not like I can do much with a cast on…and I can't just stop my practice. We need the patients, and we need the money. More than ever now. And if you can help-you know, handle the heavy lifting- I can keep on working. Besides, you need a place to stay. Both of you." He turned his smile to Kirby, who remained silent and watchful. "Chris understands that."

"Does she?" Toaster glanced towards the basement, where sounds of plastic boxes scratched along concrete.

"Well…she's trying." The master clasped his hand on her shoulder. "Just give her some time," he whispered into her ear. "She'll see what you're like, just like I do."

"You do?" Toaster had never felt so relieved in her life.

"I like to think I'm a good judge of character," the Master said, heading for his study.

Toaster did feel better. Though the Mistress was raging in the basement, she knew it would be okay. She smiled at Kirby, only to receive a stony gaze in return.

"You still blame me for this, don't you?"

Without an answer, Kirby pushed past her into the basement.

Toaster sank down to the step again, looking at the little master as he toddled over to her.

"Why isn't this getting any easier?" she asked him, as he put his hands in her hair.

* * *

Kirby stood at the bottom of the basement stairs, watching the Mistress struggle with the boxes from the long iron shelving that bordered each side of the room. She moved like a woman possessed, hefting one box at a time to the floor and tearing off the lid to rummage through it.

"Oh, come on," she exclaimed through gritted teeth as she dug through pile after pile. "That crap has to be in one of these!" She didn't seem to notice Kirby's arrival as she began to kick boxes out of her way. He marveled watching her, not sure if he was more impressed with her newfound strength or concerned for her sudden disdain for her own safety as she began reaching for boxes high out of her reach. He moved quickly, though, when one heavy box suddenly threatened to topple on her head and caught it before she even saw the danger.

"Thanks," she exclaimed, breathlessly, as he hefted the box over her head and down on the floor.

"You should be careful," he said, pausing to wipe the dust off the lid. The words "Camping Gear" revealed themselves under his hand.

"I should be a lot of things, according to my husband." She sighed as she read the label he'd found. "Of course, this would be the one." Kirby stepped out of her way as she pried open the lid and began to yank out piece to the cot.

"It wouldn't help anyone if you were hurt," Kirby added, watching her closely. For a moment, she hesitated, head bent over the box and hands gripping the sides. He could see her arms shaking, and reached up with one hand to brush at her eyes.

No teary eyes. He couldn't stand anymore teary eyes. In panic, he brushed her aside.

"I'll do it," he announced, pulling out each piece of the cot frame and handing them to her. In silence, they emptied the box and assembled the frame, saying very little to each other if they could manage without it. Both ended up with dust and grime on their clothes, but Kirby felt all the better for having something worth doing when the cot sat assmbled before them.

The Mistress seconded his sentiment with a smile; a genuine smile without a trace of tears.

"I never did thank you for cleaning up the kitchen," she said, dusting off her jeans. "That was above and beyond."

"That was nothing."

"That was kind," the Mistress insisted. "And...I haven't been kind lately."

"You're kind," Kirby protested, unable to keep the gruffness out of his voice. "You've been through a lot."

"No, I really haven't. Rob was the one who ended up in that accident, and Thea...John, why does Thea keep looking at me like that?"

"She's not sensible," Kirby snapped, as a vision of Toaster bursting into tears on the staircase attacked him. "That's why. She's well meaning, but she's not sensible. She doesn't think things through."

"Rob doesn't either. It's not like we need a plan right this second, but he can't just keep putting things off." She put the lid back on the box. Kirby took it from her before she could try lifting it herself. "There are some things we have to face, and it's better if we talk them out together."

"Together." Kirby's stomach turned, and he knew it wasn't the soup making it quesy.

The Mistress pushed loose strands of hair from her tired face as she leaned against the shelves. "Why is it the people we love make everything so damn difficult?"

The people we...Kirby seized the cot.

"I can sleep down here," he announced. He hefted it up and set it down in a far corner of the room, turning it to face the stairs.

"But it's cold," the Mistress tried to protest.

"I don't mind the cold," he replied, not really giving a damn at that moment. "It'll be out of the way, and I'll get some time to myself. And if you need help, I'm your vacuum." He stopped cold as he realized what he'd said, but the Mistress only laughed.

"A vacuum, right. After the way you cleaned up the kitchen this morning, I'd say that was spot on." She brought over a set of sheets and a blanket she'd pulled from another box. "Thanks, John. I'll think it over."

Kirby found it easy that time to return her smile. Even as he sat on the cot, feeling the thin mattress and springs, some part of him told him he could handle it.

For a while, anyway. For a while.


	5. Any Life Worth Living

Chapter 5: Any Life Worth Living Isn't Life Just Filled with Ease

The next day was the Master's doctor's appointment.

"We'll probably head over to the garage to look at the van," the Mistress told Kirby, as she fished through her purse. "I can already guess the answer: it's a no go. So we might end up looking for a used one. Not that we can afford it…" Her thought trailed off as she glanced at the newspaper clippings she pulled out.

Kirby already knew what they were. The Mistress had spent yesterday evening looking through want ads and circling possibilities. She seemed to work without a clear purpose as she noted every opening from school administrative assistant to newspaper delivery. It occurred to him that she was working off the morning's nervous energy, and he wondered if his persistence on cleaning up the kitchen after lunch and dinner that day had burdened her more than it helped. The Mistress had always worked better with clear goals in mind.

"You sure you don't mind watching Robbie?" She glanced up at him again. "We can take him with us…"

The little master, who had insisted on Kirby holding him after breakfast, was currently clinging to his neck and tugging at his moustache again. His curiosity and sweet nature was just the balm Kirby needed after his lonely, fitful sleep alone in the drafty basement. No way was he setting him down for one minute.

"He'll be fine," he insisted. "You need to focus on your errands. You need…" Kirby sought the right words, examining her tired, worried face… "A change of pace."

"Well, it will be some change," the Mistress replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm just going to call in at a few places while we're getting Rob's meds. The pharmacy is hiring part-time; that would be convenient." She read over her clippings again before folding them and deliberately placing them back in her purse.

""Alright," she announced, finality in her voice. "We just need to get through this." She shouldered her purse. "I made up a bottle for Robbie in the fridge, and there are some containers of mashed carrots and strawberries on the bottom shelf for his lunch. Some bananas, too...Oh, if he gets fussy about being the house, you could take him to the park."

She looked sharply at Kirby and bit her lip.

"Yeah," she said, nodding, "Yeah, that would be alright. He hasn't had an outing in ages, and the park is a safe place."

"The park?" Kirby glanced out the kitchen window, taking in the sunlight and shadows of trees waving before the blinds. Outside, with just the little master?

"It's the new one the town put in. The corner down the street, right by the bus stop. You could go after lunch, when there's more kids. He really should be around kids his own age, but I haven't really wanted to put him in daycare…" She cut herself off by opening the backdoor. "Rob! Are you ready?"

The Master shouted some answer Kirby couldn't hear.

"Alright, I'm starting the car." On instinct, Kirby took a step back as she walked directly to him, but she only kissed the little master's cheek.

"Be good for John, Robbie. We'll be back soon."

And she was gone. Doors open and closed, and a car engine clicked into life somewhere in the distance. Shifting the little master carefully in his arms, Kirby glanced out the living room window as the rental car backed out of the driveway and zoomed out of sight. He stood watching the road long after the car left, listening to the little master babble as tiny hands played with fistfuls of his hair.

Even then, the house was quieter than Kirby had ever known a house to be. A clock ticked away, echoing through the vastness. He didn't even know where Toaster had gone. They'd barely spoken to each other at dinner the night before, and she'd made only a quick appearance at breakfast before following the Master out to the clinic. For all he knew, she was still out there, wandering around without direction and getting herself into who knew what trouble.

"Just like she always does," he muttered, staring out into the empty world beyond the window.

The little master fussed and nearly tore the mustache off.

"Confladded thing." Kirby gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain as he turned back for the fridge.

The baby was soon pacified with an early snack of mashed strawberries and bananas. Even after locating the containers the Mistress had labelled, he kept opening the door to examine contents of the fridge, running his hands over other containers and boxes. He pulled out a tray of chicken breasts, half opened, and wrinkled his nose.

What did humans need with so much variety, anyway?

"You feel better, big fella?" Ratso called, as he swung open the cage door. "No more puking today?"

"I just have a sensitive stomach," Kirby muttered at him. The soup at lunch the day before had gone down nicely, but the dinner of tacos later ln hadn't sat so well. Too many spices running together, with beef that was too heavy. He'd at least managed to make it to the bathroom before emptying his belly. He couldn't figure out how Toaster could eat with such relish.

"You know, you might want to figure out something youse can eat, or there'll be nothing left when those hearing aids finally figure youse guys out."

"Did they find something?" Kirby jumped at the sound of the voice and nearly hit his head against the fridge. He rubbed the nape of his heck as he turned to look at the Toaster, making her way to the little master's highchair. He hadn't even heard the backdoor open.

"Not a thing," Ratso answered before Kirby could reprimand her. "Oh, sure they can toss out some big words and numbers. But does it mean anything? Nope!"

"Well, that should make you happy," Kirby said, slamming the fridge door hard.

Toaster sent him a withering look. "Kirby, what's that supposed to mean?" He watched her smile as she bent over the little master, swishing her hair before the baby's face. Even at a distance, Kirby could see the tangles forming into rats' nests (he wondered how well Ratso would handle that cliche). The sun glinted off each wave as it flew back and forth. Between each, kirby could see that familiar smile.

"You ran off fast this morning," Ratso continued, as Toaster cooed to the little Master. "Hot date out in the clinic?" He clicked his teeth.

"We were checking on the rabbit. He's doing wonderfully!" Toaster either didn't understand Ratso's intent or chose to ignore it.

"You didn't eat anything," Kirby blurted out before he could think better of it. Just why he found himself so focused on food of all things, he didn't know.

Toaster stopped swishing her hair to look at him. "I didn't think you noticed."

Kirby swallowed as her eyes fixed on him. "Why wouldn't I notice? You missed perfectly good oatmeal." That was staying down, thank his luck.

"The master gave me some bread and jelly." Her tone had lightened. "Besides, I wasn't that hungry."

"Well, we have to take care of ourselves." He shifted under her smile. "Who knows when those idiots will figure something out."

"I'm okay." Her face shone. "Thank you for caring."

"Hmm." He couldn't handle her look anymore. He turned and continued digging through the fridge, though withoit purpose as his hand reached for every odd thing that caught his eye. Caring? "I just don't want either of us to do anything to jeopardize getting changed again."

"It's not like we could!" Toaster's laugh inspired the little master, who joined right in. "These bodies are so big and wonderful, Kirby! I can do all sorts of things! Look!"

Ratso's "whoa!" and the little master's shriek alarmed Kirby before he even had a chance to tell her no. He turned in time to see the Toaster's feet kicking up in the air, and her hair dangling over her hands as she tried to steady herself.

"Stop that!" He knocked his head against the fridge again as he rushed to keep her from falling backwards. But the Toaster wasn't adept at handstands yet, and she righted herself before he could reach her.

"But see?" she said, standing on two feet this time, to his relief. Her hair covered her face, muffling her voice. "There's so much more we can do now!" She parted the hair from her face like a veil and beamed at him.

He grabbed at his chest, wincing. That heart was beating hard enough to burst. "You just about cracked your head on the tile, and you think that's a good thing?"

"I should think we should try as much as we can. I'm going to experience everything I can while I still have the chance!" Her eyes dimmed some as she studied him. "Don't you want to do the same? Even a little?"

If she didn't stop looking at him like that, his heart was going to explode. "Just what do you think I am? I may be trapped in this thing, but I nothing more than an appliance. And so are you," he added.

"Come on, Kirby," Toaster begged. Her fingers rested on his hand as she looked hopefully, wistfully at him. "Let's go outside! Let's…let's have a picnic!" Her eyes brightened again. "We can bring the little master!"

"Absolutely not!" He yanked his hand away from the burning sensation of those warm little fingers. "You go do whatever you want! Explore, experience. Get it out of your system. I am staying inside, safe, until this thing gets worked out.

"But Kirby." Toaster rubbed her fingers with her other hand, as though comforting them. "What are you going to do all day?"

"For your information, I will be keeping the little master safe, and…and reading!" Catching the stack of books the Mistress had left, Kirby seized the first book he could get his hands on and waved it in Toaster's face.

Toaster looked bemused. "You're going to read a cookbook?"

Kirby flipped the book over in his hands. Sure enough, the title page read Ms. Butterworth's Recipes.

"Yes," he responded, slowly.

"You'd rather read a cook book than come outside with me?"

Kirby felt his heart tighten. "Yes." He placed emphasis on the decision by plunking down in the nearest chair and throwing open the cover to the first page. "Soups and seasonings," he read aloud from the index. "Just what I was looking for."

Toaster stood silently, unsure. "Kirby."

"We don't have any business being human. Now, go find something else to do. I'm busy." He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs to rest the book on them, and started reading.

Tried to, at least. His eyes never left the title word soup as his ears strained for sounds of movement from the toaster. As though finally deciding that he was unmovable, she sighed, ruffled the little master's hair and left through the kitchen door. She was careful not to let it swing shut behind her, but even the clicking sound of it closing was as loud to his ears as a slam.

"You're a moron," Ratso cheerfully informed him.

Kirby chose to ignore him.

* * *

Toaster didn't make another appearance that morning.

It was easy to ignore that fact for the first hour or two. The cookbook, though he had grabbed it by mistake, had become more enthralling with each recipe he poured over. Who knew cooking was so structured? So fascinating? You combined things, simmered things, baked things into every shape and dish possible. The chicken pot pie especially kept calling his name; probably because of the chicken breasts he had touched earlier. But as noon rapidly approached, Kirby found himself getting more and more restless. He left the book and the table several times to pace between the kitchen and the living room, taking glances through each window he passed. The little master thought it was a game at one point, and trotted behind him, dragging Blanky along.

"Why don't you just go get her, you dummy?" Ratso exclaimed when he passed by for the fourth time.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kirby grumbled. He rummaged through the cabinets for the little master's lunch, selecting the box of crackers and jar of peanut butter-the little master's favorite- and even grudgingly shoved a few crackers into Ratso's unit.

"Thanks, Pal!" Ratso nibbled at a cracker with relish.

"I don't see why I should have to chase that bread head down," Kirby continued, scooping the little master up and setting him in his highchair. "If she's perfectly happy outside, then she can just stay out there."

"Yeah, don't know how, since there's _no food_ in the clinic." Ratso emphasized that by finishing off a second cracker in two bites and licking the salt from his fingers. "Believe, me I've looked. she's gotta be hungry by now."

As if he needed a reminder. Kirby's fingers lingered briefly over a third plate as picked out two for himself and the little master. "Then she better be prepared to feed herself. If she wants to stay human."

But he grabbed a third plate anyway.

It took some time to wrestle the lid off the peanut butter. Spreading the peanut butter with a knife didn't prove much easier, as he found after smearing it all over his fingers and the plate. His fingers were thick and awkward, and he actually envied the Toaster's smaller hands as he snapped cracker after cracker. Eventually, he managed to make up enough for himself and the little master, and Ratso was perfectly happy eating the first few disasters.

Kirby hesitantly took up a cracker himself after watching the little master eat one with gusto. A rumbling stomach didn't make the nutty goop look any more appetizing, and one bite firmly convinced him that it wouldn't become his favorite food.

The third plate remained cold and untouched across from him. Kirby tried hard to ignore it as he cleaned the little master's face and gathered the other plates, but its very presence made the Toaster's absence all the more obvious. He caught himself scanning the backyard as he washed the dishes. No sign of her whatsoever.

"Is she just hiding in the clinic now?" he fumed.

"You could always go and find out." Ratso's sing-song words rankled Kirby as much as his unspoken 'told you so' smirk. Kirby guffawed and fixed his gaze on his soapy hands.

"Besides, I can't leave the little master alone inside," he continued his thought outloud. "Who knows what sort of trouble he could get into?"

"Yeah, especially since there's only me and some _appliances_ here to look after him." Ratso gestured toward Blanky, lying up against the highchair.

The sight of the electric blanket sent made Kirby's stomach lurch. Or maybe he just hadn't eaten enough. Who knew what was wrong with this body?

"You idiots couldn't keep him safe if there were ten of each of you," he retorted, going back to the fridge. He found those chicken breasts again, and the onions, eggs, and milk the recipe had called for. There was American cheese instead of mozerella; would that affect the taste?

The door rustled.

"That was the wind," Ratso informed him as he looked up eagerly.

"i promised the Mistress I would look after him," Kirby replied, ignoring the infuriating grin, "and I'm going to keep that promise." He ducked his head down to rummage through the lower shelves for pie crusts. Normally the Mistress kept pre-made ones on hand...or was that only for the holidays...?

"So, take him with you." Ratso indicated the window. "The Mistress said you could take him outside, didn't she?"

"Outside?" The little master was now tugging at Kirby's pant's leg, smiling widely. "She said the park."

"Well, the park is outside, ain't it? Geez, you don't gotta be a genius to figure that out!"

Kirby didn't have a rebuttal for that one. His gaze drifted from the smiling baby to the window again, and he slowly closed the fridge door. This time he wasn't looking for the Toaster; he was comparing the sunshine to that day long ago when he'd stepped out into the world for the first time in his life. The memory passed before his eyes, bringing with it every old, odd sensation: weight of the chair with the battery strapped tightly at its base... the smaller appliances gathered on its seat...watching the cabin door open before him...

Ratso must have kept talking, but Kirby felt the memory controlling his every movement. Thoughts of chicken pot pie slowly faded as he gathered the little master into his arms and headed for the hall closet. Mechanically, he pulled out the single stroller. The little master squealed when he saw the stroller and scrambled to sit in the seat, chirping one word which Kirby understood well enough to be 'park'. Somehow, he managed to find the diaper bag and pack the little master's juice cup without much conscious thought.

"We'll be back," he told Ratso, without waiting for the response. Perhaps it wasn't even Ratso he was speaking to, considering the electric blanket now resting on the sofa. His neck prickled as he sensed other ears listening, but even then he found himself fixating solely on the door looming before him. He clutched the stroller handles tightly, feeling the little Master wiggling in his seat.

The last time Kirby had stood before a door like this...but he was different now, after all. Even the Toaster had that right. It wasn't like he'd end up eating a grassy carpet again, or pushing through a thicket.

 _Or nearly losing Lampy and Blanky to an electric storm, or watching his friends plunge to their doom down a waterfall. Nothing like that first adventure could ever happen again. Could it?_

"Okay, Kirby." Toaster's voice urged from that distant memory. Experiences to talk about later...Mustering whatever stubbornness the voice lent him, he reached out and opened the door.

* * *

The walk down to the park took far longer than Kirby thought possible. The community park, only just finished, was not more than half a block from the house, but the anxiety that weighed on him as he drew closer and closer seemed heavier than the July warmth.

It had been pleasant going at first. The sun lapped that enveloped him when he stepped out onto the porch made his skin tingle. The scent of the grass and the breeze was stronger than he'd noticed.

But there had been no sign of toaster anywhere about; not even in the clinic. He'd found the doors completely locked, and no amount of knocking could get them opened. She just wasn't there.

 _Or she's sulking and ignoring you._ Kirby wasn't sure which idea was better: that she was ignoring him and staying out of sight inside, or that she had wandered off from the clinic and house altogether, going down a path he couldn't even guess.

But he didn't know where to begin looking, and the little master had gotten restless with his hesitation. So he found himself following the directions the Mistress had given him, glancing back over his shoulder every few minutes just to be sure the idiot wasn't following a ways behind.

Shouts greeted him as the park came into view: the jungle gym with two yellow slides and two sets of swings were swarming with small children, barely older than the little master. To anyone familiar with the sight, it looked happy and inviting. What turned kirby's mouth dry was the sight of mothers gathered around the benches, surrounded by strollers and their tinier tots.

He nearly turned back. What was he thinking, going outside by himself? Heading directly into crowds of strangers. Hadn't the hospital been bad enough, with people coming and going? What had the mistress been thinking?

To keep her son occupied, of course! What else was any mother thinking? And the minute the park with its screaming banshees came into view, the little master began kicking his legs in his seat and straining against his seatbelt.

No, Kirby realized, he couldn't turn back now. He couldn't disappoint the little master.

So very aware of the eyes that snapped to him, he carefully unbuckled the baby from the stroller and watched him run at full steam towards the crowd. He found himself gripping the stroller like a life line, and focused on breathing as his stomach heaved.

He was thirsty again.

* * *

Toaster roused slowly from sleep as threads of light tickled her eyes. The shadow of the willow she'd fallen asleep under had shifted as the sun changed direction, and now she found herself bathed in warmth instead of the cool breeze that had first lulled her to sleep. She didn't mind it, though, stretching out. She'd had the nicest nap, with her head had pillowed on a think patch of grass, and the ground around the pond just soft enough to serve as a suitable mattress. Probably even better than the guest room bed, she smiled to herself, looking out over the pond again. Plopping noises burst along the still water as turtles stuck their heads out here and there.

She was so glad she'd taken the opportunity to explore it. It was just as peaceful as the Master had said.

"When we first moved here, I used to just take a quick walk and toss rocks across," he'd told her when they entered the clinic that morning. "It was just a quiet place where I could gather my thoughts; get a little alone time." He'd paused before unlocking the clinic door, glancing off towards the field behind the house with a sigh. "Chris will just get upset if I try to go now."

"That's a shame," Toaster had replied, helping him out with the key.

"Well...there will be another time." But he sounded wistful even as he said it.

The idea had tickled the back of her mind as they checked on the rabbit, and wasn't forgotten even in the excitement of finding him hopping around his unit, eating the alfalfa the Master had given him. Toaster had laughed to see him press his front paw and his twitching nose against the bars to greet them. He would still need time to rest, and his back legs would limp when he tried to hop, but he was alive and happy.

Perhaps it was even that little but of encouragement that persuaded her to seek the Master's favorite spot.

So when he and the Mistress had left, and Kirby had given her the cold shoulder yet again, it was directly to the pond she had headed.

What a shame Kirby couldn't see it. Wouldn't see it. She sat up and hugged her legs. He was missing out on so many opportunities by being such a grump. There was so much to try-she'd even tried another handstand (which sent her sprawling on her back, but who was there to point that out?)-and they could share it together.

"Why can't he see that?" she asked the pond.

Her stomach rumbled for answer, and she pressed her hand against it. How long had she been asleep anyhow? She squinted up at the sky before scrambling to her feet. The Master and the Mistress could have been back by now, and though Kirby and the Mistress might not care if she ever showed up again, she knew the Master would fret over her.

She headed back to the house as quickly as her feet could take her, both refreshed from her nap and spurred on by her complaining belly.

The rental car wasn't in the driveway, to her relief. At least she'd be inside before they came back. So it was only Kirby she'd have to face again.

"Wonder what mood he's in now?" she muttered darkly, as the sharp reminder of their last fight weighed on her.

It was a surprise, then, that the sound of whistling greeted her as she opened the front door. The little master was leaping around the living room in some energetic game, Blanky held tight between his hands, but the whistling was coming from the kitchen. Not ratso's shrill whistling, but someone else's.

"Kirby?" she exclaimed, finding him bent over something in the kitchen. The whistling broke off. Kirby started and whirled around, revealing splashes of white flour and yellow soup on his shirt, and clutching a spool in the Mistress's favorite mixing bowl. His face went red, as though she had caught him in the middle of something terrible. Before he could answer, Ratso yawned loudly from his unit, awakening from a nap.

"Well, well, so the progidal appliance returns." He yawned again. "About time, too. You missed lunch, but you'll get a performance dinner piece, if you can stand the entertainer."

"You're cooking?" Toaster asked, focusing on Kirby. The cookbook was propped up against the wall before him, its pages smudged with finger prints and wrinkled from someone not used to handling them.

Kirby immediately turned so that the bowl was out of her sight. "Well, I just thought I-I'd been reading it, so…"

"And he got some cooking tips," Ratso interrupted, with a snicker. "What that mom tell you? Use olive oil on the pie crust instead of Crisco? Of course, Kirby would run into a vegan nut at the park."

"You went to the park?" Toaster couldn't decide if she was exhiliarted or annoyed. "You said you didn't want to go out."

"I didn't go out." Kirby looked as befuddled as he sounded. "i-the mistress said to take the little master to the park."

"Oh, I see." The peace and confidence she'd found at the pond melted away. "You're happy to do something the Mistress says. You just didn't want to come out with me."

"I went out to find you."

"You didn't try very hard."

Kirby's gruffness returned. "Well, Where were you anyway? Getting lost out there, trying to get yourself hurt or worse." He turned his back on her completely, focusing on his task again."

"I walked down to the pond." Toaster slid into a seat, weary (so much for that refreshing nap). "I didn't think you'd…what was the park like?" she asked, hoping to quell the fight.

"Loud." Kirby slapped the bowl on the counter and began to struggle with a box of rolled pie crusts.

"Yeah?" Toaster encouraged.

"Too many kids. A big one knocked the little master down."

"Oh, no! Was he hurt?" The little master was making quite a racket as he hopped across the rug.

Kirby grunted. "Not really. He got back on the slide without even crying."

"I'll say! It was that kid who got the living hell beat out of him!" Ratso slapped his knee. "Tell her what you told me, Kirby! How his big fat mother charged into the playground to drag him off by his ear."

"I never said she was fat," Kirby muttered as he poured the contents of the bowl into the crust. Toaster, recalling her own baking disaster, envied the masterful way he steadied the bowl. "She was just...larger. And I never said she charged or dragged him off. She made him apologize to the little master, anyway, and that's all that matters."

"Sure, that and the fact that she wouldn't leave you alone after that!"

Even Toaster smothered a laugh at the glare Kirby sent the rat. "You weren't even there, newspaper butt."

"Oh, come on, that's what you said." Finding Toaster an eager audience, Ratso turned fully to her. "So she's apologizing and apologizing, and Kirby tells her its alright, the little master wasn't hurt. Then these other mothers come up and start putting him through the third degree. You think they'd never seen a man bring a kid to the park!"

"it was not the third degree."

"You said they wanted your name, and where you lived! Get this, Toaster, one of em thinks Kirby's sweet for bringing his friend's baby to the park. Sweet! Its Kirby, am I right?" Ratso fell back in his cage as he clutched his sides. "They think Kirby's some kind of male nanny! One hour there, and he's got a whole park of ladies hanging on his every word."

"They were not." Kirby bunched over the oven, trying to hide his face, but even Toaster could see the flush on the back of his neck.

"You made friends!" she exclaimed, awed. "Kirby, you enjoyed it!"

"Shut up."

"But that's wonderful!" Toaster could hardly contain herself. "See? There's nothing wrong with having experiences! It feels great!" She rushed out of her chair to bend over him while he checked the oven. "You should come with me to the pond next! You'll love how great it is! And I can go to the park with you and the little master next time…"

"There won't be a next time." Kirby slammed the oven door. "I did not enjoy myself; they were not hanging on my every word. See if I ever tell that rat anything again."

"Well, excuse me for living." Ratso sulked in his armchair.

Toaster studied Kirby's pinched expression. "Kirby, why can't you admit that this isn't so bad after all?" Without catching herself, Toaster put a hand on his arm. For a moment an electric shock passed through her, and she could feel Kirby shiver. Slowly, they locked eyes with each other, and she could see his nostrils flare as he drew in a shaky breath.

"Kirby," she whispered, searching his widened eyes, "what are you so afraid of?" She waited as his lips parted, leaning closer to hear his words.

"We're home." The Master's voice rang out as the front door opened.

* * *

In a moment, the McGroartys were stumbling into the kitchen, and Kirby found the excuse he needed to brush off the Toaster's hand. He grasped the kitchen counter for support as Toaster immediately went to help the Master with his bag. The touch was gone, and just as he had realized that the caress on his forehead had not been a dream at all, now he could relax. Whatever had happened, that heat coursing through him when she laid her hand on him began to cool. He fought to control himself. He turned back to the cookbook, pretending to focus on it as the Master made some mention of supplies and Toaster followed him out to the car.

"Just make sure everything is out of the trunk," the Mistress said as she walked into the kitchen, carrying a box. "I have to make sure the rental car is cleaned out before I take it back tomorrow."

She barely seemed to notice Kirby as he carried the cookbook to the table, getting well out of her way.

"Good, he was good," he answered when she asked, weakly, how the little master had been. "I took him to the park, like you suggested." He could swear he heard Ratso snicker.

"Oh, thank you." The Mistress washed her hands at the sink. "Did he have fun?"

"Yes." Kirby remembered watching the little master play. He'd never realized how hard it was on the little boy to be cooped up alone inside. Sure, he had Blanky and the other appliances, but he needed little people his own age to play with.

And their mothers…Kirby stared at the cookbook, flushing as he remembered. The freckled kid hadn't hurt the little master, and probably hadn't meant to shove him down to get to the slide. His mother, however, was just certain that her son had scarred him for life.

"He doesn't do things like that. Honestly!" Kirby had blinked down into the worried face, red with trying to make amends. Judy Toll. She hadn't stopped talking for a moment, no matter how hard he tried to get away. When her two friends joined them, he'd been utterly trapped.

"Mary Hildago." The brunette rolled her eyes as she shifted a toothy baby on her hip. "No relation to the horse."

"Colette Savage." The third grinned elfishly, her pixie cut helping the effect along.

Kirby had only nodded roughly before realizing that they were waiting for an introduction. "Kirby." He'd had to swallow the dryness back in his throat. "John," he added as a quick afterthought. The name felt thick on his tongue.

But, just like that, their suspicion was gone. His hand was shaken so many time his arm nearly fell off, and their chatter threatened to shatter his eardrums. But it was friendly.

Ratso may have been exaggerating everything Kirby had told him, but even he couldn't exaggerate the relief Kirby had felt.

"It was nice," he said out loud. "It was very nice."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it went well." The answer was flat. Kirby cocked an eye towards her. The Mistress had dumped her purse on the counter and was pouring over her newspaper clipping again.

"Um, how was it?" He asked, noting crosses in the circles now.

"No luck," she said, sighing, as she crumbled a clipping and tossed it towards the trashcan. And missed. "Rob's arm is healing just fine, but the van is a waste of time. It's going to be the bus from now on until we can save for a used one." She slumped over the counter. "And the pharmacy position was already filled. The bank wants too many hours. I couldn't, not with Rob and the baby. It's not happening."

Kirby watched her rest her head in her arms. "Rob doesn't really want me to take on a job right now anyway. He won't say it, but I know."

Kirby grunted noncommittally, then started as she suddenly strode to him for a bear hug. "But thanks for all your help. I mean it. Looking after Robbie and taking him to the park." He breathed when she released him. "We stopped by a store to get you and Thea some things. Combs, toothbrushes, toothpaste, some clothes. Thea's been wearing some of my things, but we didn't have anything to fit you. I hope second-hand is okay. You'll have to try them on, though…" The Mistress sniffed the air. "You…you made dinner?" she asked, turning to the oven.

Kirby couldn't help the swell of pride as she opened the oven and glanced at the pots. "Chicken pot pie? Homemade? John, it smells terrific!"

"it was just something I was reading," he mumbled, fingering the cookbook. "I…I hope that's alright."

"You watched the baby all morning, took him to the park, and cooked?" He'd never seen her so thrilled in his life. "Boy, if I were a rich woman right about now, I'd hire you!"

"Rich." Kirby snorted, trying to hide his flush with the cookbook. "Everybody gets into a snit about money. If you're good at what you do, you don't need money to do it. You just work hard and don't expect a reward."

"Wow." The Mistress closed the oven door slowly, watching him with an odd expression on her face. "You say that like you mean it."

"I do mean it." Kirby surprised himself. He'd wanted to say those things for years. "I don't need money to do what I enjoy doing."

The Mistress seemed to consider that as she gazed around her clean kitchen, scrubbed down with every inch of satisfaction Kirby could give it. "What would you live on without money, though?" she asked.

"I wouldn't know," Kirby admitted. "I've never needed money. Just a little place to sleep at night and some way to be useful."

"Couldn't I give you anything else?" the Mistress asked, watching him closely.

Confident for the first time in days, Kirby shook his head.

The Mistress' smile grew wider, and she reached across the table to grasp his hand. "John Kirby, have I got a proposition for you!"


	6. You Just Stay Forgiving

Chapter 6: You Just Stay Forgiving Through the Forest and the Trees

Kirby turned restlessly in his cot, not sure if the rusty coils bothered him more than the idiocrasy of the evening's events.

It was hard to choose.

The Mistress' plan was the most ridiculous notion he had ever heard.

"But it's perfect!" Her voice insisted, as his mind replayed the events at dinner yet again. He could recall her clearly sitting on the edge of her seat, both hands pressed on the table as she addressed everyone. Gone was the discouraged housewife who kept trying to clutch at pieces. New excitement had breathed energy and purpose into her with a plan that made eating nearly impossible. "I can hire you to look after Robbie and the house while I take that job at the bank! I won't have to worry about putting Robbie in daycare, or making sure Rob's fed."

"Kirby, that is perfect!" Kirby's protest was cut off as yet another party made herself heard. "That's exactly what you've been doing your whole life! Cleaning…and looking after people! You're a natural at it!"

"He is, isn't he?" Kirby followed the unwitting smile the Mistress flashed at the toaster, though Toaster seemed to miss it completely. She was too busy smiling at him. "I've never seen Robbie so happy before."

"He's incredible…when's he not being such a grump, anyway." Both woman laughed.

Kirby looked from one to the other, becoming more and more flummoxed with each glance. For all their differences, their faces were near mirror images of each other as they reflected the same enthusiasm and admiration.

"Would you stop talking about me as if I wasn't here!" He finally spluttered.

"Please consider it, John. You'd be doing me a favor!" the Mistress added, almost pleading. "Both of us, really. Wouldn't he, Rob?"

If Kirby had hoped for any protest from the Master (who should have at least explained to his wife that he could feed himself just fine), he found none at all. Perhaps the veterinarian was simply tired, or relieved to see his wife in a happy mood. Or maybe, Kirby realized darkly, as he watched Rob eat a third helping of chicken pot pie, he actually relished the idea.

"It would certainly go a long way towards helping," he said. "Between what Chris could make at the bank and Thea helping me in the clinic, we could make headway on the bills we still owe. Maybe save up for another van…but you shouldn't feel obligated to say yes," he quickly added, catching Kirby's eyes on him. "We don't want to take advantage of you. You can always say no."

"Why would he say no?" the Mistress exclaimed in a laugh.

HOW could he say no was the better question.

Kirby pounded a fist on a spring that kept trying to dig into his shoulder. He'd spent most of the night trying to find a way to say no. Absolutely not? Under no circumstances? Never ever in a million years?

Cleaning and cooking aside, he simply hadn't been built for what they were asking him to do. There was only thing he was meant to be and that was a vacuum. But every time he saw the Mistress' shining face and the Toaster's beaming smile. He couldn't even say for sure which one made it more difficult to refuse.

Why was it his business to make any decision? Kirby flung off the blanket and flailed to his feet. He stumbled up in the stairs in the dark. He hadn't even asked to be involved in any of this.

"Those hearing aids have had more than enough time to figure this mess out," he told himself and he opened the basement door and stepped into the living room. "They should have told Ratso what they've found by now. And if Ratso isn't awake, I'll shake him until he is!"

And that was exactly what Kirby ended up doing, when he found Ratso snoring away on his couch. A good shake of the unit sent him rolling on the floor, and blinking bleary eyes in confusion.

"Whatcha mean what are they doing?" It took him some time to answer Kirby. "They've barely had enough time to talk about anything!"

"They've had four days," Kirby retorted. "What are they waiting for?"

"How should I know? Oh, wait." Ratso scratched his rear as he looked at a corner of his unit. "Actually, I do know. It was gonna wait until morning…"

"What was?" Kirby demanded, as Ratso rose on unsteady feet.

"Samples." The Rat tugged sandwich bags from behind his couch.

"Samples?"

"Yeah. They want some hair from you and Toaster so they do some lab testing on it. Don't bother asking me how." Ratso stifled a yawn. "I didn't bother asking for details."

"Hair?" Kirby ran his fingers through the short hairs on his head. "How much?"

Ratso shushed him and beckoned him closer with a finger. Kirby lowered his head to the unit to hear what he had to say. Instead of whispering, Ratso plucked two hairs from his mustache.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Big Guy," he said, nonchalantly, as Kirby muffled his yelp with both hands. "Didn't think you were up to yanking 'em out by yourself."

"Why—you—you—I'll—I'll—"

"You'll what?" Ratso dropped the hairs into one baggy and rolled it up to stick back under the couch. "Wake me out of a nice sleep? You wanna feel better? Go shove Toaster out of bed and yank some hairs out of her head." He shot a nasty grin Kirby's way. "Trust me, it'll make you feel much better."

Going upstairs was the last thing Kirby wanted to do. But there was some sense in Ratso's suggestion. Perhaps not going as to shove Toaster out of bed, but to do whatever it took to get them back into appliances again. He tried to ignore the way the stairs creaked under his heavy feet, focusing only on his need.

To his surprise, the door to the guest bedroom was already ajar. The only window in the room gaped wide as it flooded the room with the pale light of some outside lamp. Apparently, the Toaster had pulled the blinds up as far as they could go and hadn't bothered to lower them again.

Even as he shook his head at her carelessness, a much more serious blunder caught his attention. The Toaster slept sprawled on the bed, her limbs askew and her hair completely covering her face. Blanky was stretched out on top of her in a very decided effort to cuddle as much of her as it could.

"You dope." The words shot out before Kirby could stop himself. "You can't be in here," he said again, in a much softer tone as he stepped inside the room. "Do you want to get us into more trouble? Besides, she's got a perfectly good comforter underneath her, if she needs one." Grumbling, he reached out and caught the blanket right behind its dial to lift it up.

It was a decision he'd regret, as he immediately found that the Toaster was only half- dressed. Bare legs and feet met his eyes, both curving up to join the white cotton fabric that hugged the Toaster's hips. Kirby stared dumbly for a moment, trying to register the odd form that was both the Toaster and someone else at the same time.

As the surprise faded, another thought tried to click itself into place. He let Blanky drop on the floor as he moved around to one side of the bed. He raised a hand and let it hover over the form, just over the apex where legs disappeared into the underwear that Toaster had the frame of mind to keep. Dark hairs covered the legs; a sight that somehow fascinated him. His fingers twitched, but a strange unease prevented him from lowering it any further. His free hand, however, traveled from his side to his abdomen, feeling for that part of his anatomy that had and still disturbed his peace of mind the most. There was an obvious difference between what he could see and what he could feel.

"But why?" his mind demanded.

Then Toaster drew a deep breath in her sleep, and turned her head to one side, snapping Kirby out of his senselessness. He pulled his hand back quickly and watched her move, waiting stone still until her breathing settled again.

"Idiot," he said to himself, "You want to wake her up, remember? You need her hair."

His hand reached for the hair covering her face, but instead of yanking at it he found himself drawing it away from her mouth; something he'd seen the Master do when the Mistress had fallen asleep on the couch. Toaster's lips parted and closed again, completely unaware of him.

For the first time, he found himself really able to see what the Toaster had become.

Ninny. It's not the first time you've seen her.

Yeah, but you try looking at her when she's got those infuriating eyes watching your every move. He'd been avoiding her gaze for so long, Kirby realized, that he hadn't taken the time to actually see how she had changed. Details that he hadn't noticed before struck him now; the curve to her jaw, the dip of her blouse over her budding chest. The hair had tangled into a painful disaster, but on his rough fingers it still felt as silky as the first time he had touched it.

Kirby had no really opinion on human beauty, but the Toaster was very pleasant to look at.

Just as his fingers hovered over her lips, a strong urgency shot up in his belly and spread through his veins; fiercely beckoning as he felt her breath warm his hand. He panicked, and pulled away. Groping in the darkness for Blanky, he didn't give heed to taking care as his hurried movements caused her to shift in her sleep again. Even in the hallway, with her door closed firmly behind him, he didn't feel safe. He dropped Blanky to the ground before the Little Master's bedroom without a word and thumped down the stairs without taking care. It wasn't until he reached the bottom of the stairs that his heart slowed to a reasonable speed and his mind cleared.

He had escaped something. Just what it was he didn't know. But he was darned if he let himself get that close again. If that meant never looking at the toaster again, then so be it.

Ratso's snoring from the kitchen reminded him that he hadn't gotten what he'd gone for in the first place.

"Whatever. Tonight, tomorrow. What difference does it make?" he told himself, taking care of his discomfort. "Those blockheads will figure something out how to change us back soon enough."

* * *

And just like that, July was over, and a hot, muggy August was well underway.

To Toaster, it seemed that time had slipped by quietly and quickly. Kirby had accepted the Mistress' offer the first morning after her plan had been announced, setting into motion what was now the household's routine. Kirby rose early in the morning to set out breakfast, waking them all with whatever delectable concoction he managed to test. The Mistress left for her bank teller job soon after, with a quick kiss for her husband and her son. Toaster would follow the Master out to the clinic, where they spent most of the morning pouring over equipment or patients. At lunch they would head back inside an immaculately clean house to eat whatever Kirby set out for them, usually just in time to see Kirby and Robbie off to the park. Some days the Mistress would be home for the afternoon, and then Toaster would find a quiet place to escape to so the Master and Mistress could be by themselves. She was never alone for long, though, as the Master would come find her as soon as he had finished lunch so they could return to the clinic for more patient visits or equipment checks.

If there were neither, Rob happily spent the afternoon instructing her in his profession. Toaster practically swallowed those teaching moments whole, both for the marvel of veterinary medicine and for the thrill of her Master's attention.

She was helping him. Not just watching and admiring, but truly and honestly helping him.

At some point, it all became natural to her. Not just the routine the four of them followed, but the sensation of being human. The rituals of eating, dressing, sleeping, and bathing become second nature, though she had started wishing she could just hack off her hair and call it a day. While she waited for the hearing aids to finish studying the hair samples they'd collected, she found herself slowly becoming used to everything in her new life.

Everything but the terrible loneliness, that is. The moments when the Master was with his wife or off in his study, Toaster found herself missing her friends' company.

"But Kirby's been talking to you now, ain't he," Ratso asked, on one of those rare afternoons when Toaster was in the kitchen by herself. "I'd thought he stopped blaming you for everything."

"I thought so, too." Toaster leaned against a counter corner, swinging a cabinet door back and forth on its hinges with one finger. "But I guess not."

It was one of those Saturdays when Chris was off from the bank, and Rob had no scheduled appointments. Saturdays in the past, to Toaster, had meant more time together; everyone laughing and playing. Somehow it had just become more empty time, with everyone looking for ways to be away from each other.

And that meant that she was alone.

"I mean, he talks," Toaster continued, "But he doesn't really say anything important. He doesn't tell me what he's thinking or feeling, or what's he's hoping for."

"Yeah, but he never did that before. Why's it so important now?"

"It…it just is." Toaster couldn't really explain what she meant. She didn't know how to tell Ratso that she could sense Kirby keeping her at a distance, physically and emotionally, in ways he never had as an appliance. She couldn't tell him how hurt she felt when Kirby wouldn't look her in the eye, or how painful it was that he scrambled to get out of any room he found her alone in. She couldn't even ask him why he wouldn't be alone with her; he never gave her a moment to talk.

"Well, you know how he gets." But Ratso still looked as perplexed as she felt. "Besides, he's stayed pretty busy lately. Even busier for a vacuum! Maybe it just ain't as easy for him as it is for you."

"Maybe." Toaster moved to the sink to look out the window. From there, she could see Kirby and the Mistress together, holding a basked full of wet laundry. In whatever free time he had, Kirby had strung up a clothesline between the house and the old water pump, claiming in an embarrassed way that they needed to give the dryer a break during the summer. He and the Mistress chatted away as they hung up clothes. She saw him put a hand on her shoulder. In memory, Toaster ran the back of her finger across her cheek, wondering why Kirby's fingers had felt so differently than hers.

"He doesn't have a problem talking to her," Toaster observed, wistfully, as Kirby tossed back his head to laugh at something the Mistress had said.

"What? Don't tell me you're jealous."

"What?" Toaster shot a glance at Ratso. "No! Well…not really." She grinned sheepishly. "But he treats me differently, almost like she does. Like I'm something you have to avoid."

"Well, I get why _she's_ still avoiding you. You follow her husband around like some sort of sick puppy."

"But I have finally have a chance to talk to him and work with him!" Toaster protested. "Why does that bother her?"

"Like I really know what the Mistress is thinking." Ratso flung up his arms. "I just know that you spending so much time in the clinic with him grinds her gears."

Toaster shook her head sadly. "There's nothing I can do about that. He needs my help. He said so." She remembered watching him try to remove the stitches from a kitten's belly, his hand awkward with the tweezers. His face had gone red with exertion, and he all but wrenched the sling off until she'd taken the tweezers away from him.

"Thanks," he'd told her when they'd finished with the kitten, but it pained her to see how useless he felt.

"Besides, I need to be doing something, too," Toaster admitted, mostly to the image through the window.

As if sensing her, Kirby's head turned towards the window. Toaster forced a smile and waved at him but Kirby simply stared until her hand dropped and her smile vanished. "I know Kirby feels frustrated, but at least he's doing something useful. Me? I keep trying to toast something that just isn't there."

"Well, you could always spruce up your appearance," Ratso replied. "I heard the Mistress say you keep looking like something the cat dragged in."

"What does that mean?" Toaster flushed regardless.

"Well, for starters, you ever think about dragging a comb through that nest? Every time you come in here you look like a crazy woman."

"My hair again?" Toaster groaned and reached up to smooth the frizz. "I have tried to fix it. Again and again and again. But the comb keeps getting stuck in it, and it keeps tearing, and IT HURTS!" she yelped, as her fingers caught in tangle and yanked.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Ratso flung up his hands. "Cool it! I was just trying to offer some advice."

Toaster turned away from the window to free her fingers and calm herself. "Sorry, Ratso," she managed to say after a moment. "I know you're trying to help. I just wish…" She didn't know what she wished.

Ratso waved her apology aside. "Don't sweat it, slots. You just keep your chin up. Those earplugs will have everything figured out before you know it!"

"Thanks."

"Oh, Toaster?" Ratso whispered, as the study door opened and the Master called for her.

"Yes?"

Ratso shrugged apologetically. "Blanky, Lampy, and Radio say they miss you."

The hopelessness settled over her heart again. "Oh. Tell them I miss them, too." She headed towards the study.

The Master was waiting in the living room for her with a tube of plastic wrap. On the floor, Robbie played with a bright blue ball Chris had brought home for him.

"I told John I would watch Robbie until the laundry was done, but I need a shower," the Master said, apologetically. "I can't take the heat right now. And this thing…" He indicated his cast with a frustrated sigh.

"Sure, I'll watch him," Toaster said, forcing a smile.

"…And do you think you could…?" The Master held out the plastic wrap.

"Of course!" Glad to be of some use at last, Toaster helped him wrap his arm until the cast was completely water proof.

"Thanks. I would have asked Chris, but I couldn't find her anywhere."

"She's in the backyard hanging laundry. With Kirby." Toaster bit her tongue as she heard the iciness in her own voice.

"Yeah. That figures." Rob's face changed as he regarded his busted arm. "Oh, well. At least she's spending time with someone who makes her happy right now."

"You've made her happy," Toaster protested, not able to stand seeing him look so forlorn.

"Well, you can't make everyone happy all the time," he replied, giving her a crooked grin that looked forced. "My mother used to say that sometimes you just need to do things that make you happy, and let people do what they have to do."

"Is that true?" Toaster watched his face, waiting.

The Master sighed and shrugged. "It worked for her. I guess I'll try it, too. Thanks for your help, Thea."

"You're welcome." Toaster watched him disappear up the stairs, mulling over everything.

"But what if things don't make you as happy as they used to?" she asked herself, turning towards the little Master. She couldn't help a genuine smile this time as she watched him bounce his ball as high as he could. Blanky lay nearby; a guardian to the little boy's fun.

"You know exactly what makes you happy, don't you?" Toaster exclaimed as she knelt beside Robbie.

The blue eyes shot to her face and he poked her nose with his finger. "To-aster…"

Toaster rubbed her nose against the finger. "Yes, that's who I was. I'm not sure who I am now," she admitted, sadly.

The toddler's face fell as he watched her, then he grabbed his ball with both hands and heaved it at her. The throw was weak and unmannered, but Toaster laughed as she caught it and rolled it back to him. For a few moments, she forgot her issues with Kirby and the Mistress and her loneliness as she and the little Master played with the ball.

All went well, until the toddler bounced the ball. Toaster grimaced as it hit her shoulder and bounced off, heading back the way it came. It swept past the baby's head, just barely missing his ear, and ended up rolling under the couch.

After a brief moment the little Master registered that his toy was gone and shot pleading eyes up at Toaster.

"Oh, oh, it's okay," Toaster soothed as the little eyes began to water. "It's not gone. I'll get it."

She crawled over to the couch and thrust a hand deep inside the dark recesses. Dust and dirt seemed to attach to her skin, and she frowned, wondering if Kirby knew he had missed a spot.

"There we go!" she exclaimed, as her hand touched on something. "I got it. Oh, wait, no, that's not it," she added, as her fingers mapped out a handle. "Hold on." The item she drew out into the light was a tiny brush with fine bristles. She picked the dust out of it, looking it over carefully before tossing it up on the couch cushions and delving underneath once more.

The ball was soon retrieved, unscathed, and the little master was tossing and bouncing it once more. Toaster, however, felt her gaze drawn away from the game to the brush on the couch.

"You ever think about dragging a comb through that nest? Every time you come in here you look like a crazy woman."

"Well, if that's what it takes…!" She snatched the brush up from the couch. The little master barely noticed her absence as she walked into the guest bathroom and flicked on a light. Her human reflection glared back at her from the mirror, but she refused to back down.

"Okay," she told the determined reflection. "This time, I'm going to get it."

She brandished the brush high above her head and brought it down with force on a particularly wild tangle. She grit her teeth against the pain that ripped through her scalp, but the tangle didn't come free. She tried tipping her head down, brushing her hair forward, and hoping that it would easier if she brushed upside down.

Worse luck. Not only did she make herself dizzy trying to brush hair she couldn't see, she managed to once again get the brush stuck fast in her frizz. It took several strong, painful tugs to get it free again.

"Oh, pumpernickel!" she shouted, banging the sink as she straightened up. She glared at her reflection, finding it red and fierce as it glared back through the bush of hair.

"Well, I'm not finished yet!" she told it. "You're going to be brushed, and you're going to be brushed good!"

The laughter that erupted behind her made her drop the brush again. She whirled around to find the Mistress doubling over in the doorway.

"I'm sorry!" the Mistress shrieked, grabbing at the door for dear life. "I couldn't help it! It was just so…so…" Toaster felt herself burning under the laughter. "I've never seen anyone have so much trouble before!"

"What do you want?" she snapped.

That only sobered the Mistress a little as she stepped inside. "Trying to figure out what all that moaning and yelling was! You act like you've never brushed your hair before!"

"Well, maybe I haven't," Toaster retorted. It wasn't true-of course, she had tried-but she was too tired to get hung up on details. "But I'm trying now, aren't I?"

"Good luck." The Mistress shook her head as she reached around to pluck the hairbrush up from the sink. "Nobody I know brushes hair like that with a baby hairbrush."

"If you have any better ideas, I'd love to hear them!" Toaster was aghast at the words coming out of her mouth. How she could she speak to the Mistress this way?

For a moment, the Mistress seemed ready to tear her apart. Then, she rolled her eyes. "Actually, I do." She indicated the staircase. "Come on."

Toaster hesitated, but the Mistress' hand pushing her shoulder left her no room for argument.

Only a few minutes later saw her seated at the Mistress' vanity, clutching onto the edge for dear life as wave after wave of pain attacked her scalp.

"Geez, this is a real rat's nest!" The Mistress held tight to a handful of the hair as she combed with one of her wire brushes. She had been trying hard to start slow and easy. Toaster knew that. But every tangle caused a new problem. Every attempt hurt. Even the concoction the mistress kept spraying over her head in a fine mist did little to alleviate the pain.

"Stop! Just stop!" Toaster couldn't take it anymore.

"I've almost got it," the Mistress insisted for the fifth time. "Your hair is thicker than I thought it would be!"

With cry, Toaster flung out a hand to shove the Mistress. With a cry of her own, the Mistress dropped the brush and stumbled back towards the bed.

"I'm only trying to help!" Toaster heard her groan.

"I know! I know!" Toaster moaned, pressing her hands against her head to ease the stinging. "It's just not working! None of it is working!"

"Look, it's just hair…" Toaster didn't even let her finish.

"No, it's not! It's a disaster! All of it! And I don't know how to change it!" She wiped the mist away from her cheeks. Just how much did the Mistress use, anyway?

"I don't know what I'm doing," Toaster exclaimed. "I thought I could do this, but I can't! It's impossible! I can't talk to anyone! Kirby won't come near me! I don't even know who I am anymore!" She glanced up at the mirror, and stared at the swollen eyes that peered back at her in shame from under a frizzy mess. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh…"

The Mistress appeared behind her in the mirror.

"No, no, don't cry, Thea. Please? I can't stand it when people cry." Hands attempted to smooth the hair back from Toaster's face. "I…I really was just trying to help." Guilt crinkled the Mistress' tired face as she met their eyes met in the mirror. "But I guess I really haven't been much help, have I?"

Toaster quietly watched her.

"Everything has felt out of control since the accident," the Mistress continued, softly. "I've felt out of control."

"I know you don't want me here," Toaster started. "I've made everything difficult."

"No, you haven't. Well, okay." Her hands rubbed Toaster's shoulders, slowly easing the pain. "Maybe a little. You're just…I've never met anyone like you before. You're so different, and Rob likes you so much…I just forgot that everything has been hard for you, too."

"It's not supposed to be," Toaster murmured, covering her eyes with her hands so she wouldn't have to look at that woebegone creature sitting opposite her.

"Here." A cloth ghosted over her fingers. "I guess it's about time we talked to each other. A real talk. Not the careful ones we've been doing."

A real talk? Toaster lowered her hands just enough for the mistress to dab away the lingering tears, and found herself looking up into a genuine smile.

"Hey, what do you say we get out of here for a while?"

"Out of here?"

"Yeah." A glow swept over the Mistress' face as excitement banished the tired look. "Let's go find a professional to take care of this." She gingerly stroked Toaster's tangled hair. "At least if they hurt you, we don't have to pay them."

"Really?" Toaster put a hand to the rat's nest.

"Why not? I have some money left over from my paycheck. We can splurge. And maybe we can find something that fits so you don't have wear my maternity clothes anymore." She grinned widely as she held out a hand. "Girls' afternoon out. We can spend some time together. How does that sound?"

Toaster glanced from the eager face to the outstretched hand. A strange weight lifted off her shoulders as she clasped the Mistress' hand.

It sounded great.

* * *

"And don't suffocate him this time," Kirby snapped at the blanket as he tucked the little master into his crib. The blanket made no sign that he had heard, but Kirby was confident that he had made his point. He checked that the curtains were securely closed before leaving the little master to his afternoon nap.

As he closed the door, he felt oddly successful. It had been so long since he had felt that confidence. It used to be reserved for when the Master or Mistress had grasped his handle and flicked on his power switch, sending him careening over the carpet to grasp at the dust that settled. Even as he walked down the stairs, he remembered clearly the sensation of his gears turning and the speed at which he moved.

Giving the little master his snack, taking him to the park, and rocking him to sleep wasn't exactly the same, but it carried its own value.

And it helped him keep his mind off the Toaster.

Even as he headed into the kitchen to start dinner, he found himself fighting away images that kept popping. It seemed no matter how he fought to avoid her, she followed him everywhere in his thoughts. Her laugh, her smile, the way she slept…

"Don't you think you need to cut the Toaster a break?"

"What?" Startled that he had been caught dust gathering, Kirby turned to blink at the rat.

"Well, you're sorta hurting her feelings by the way you've been treating her lately," the rat persisted, laying on his back in his nest of paper clippings. "What's with the cold shoulder, anyway?"

"Oh, that." Kirby couldn't help but give an extra snap to his sleeves as he rolled them up to wash the dishes. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Have those blockheads figured out how to change us back yet?"

"Nope," Ratso replied, flatly. "They running every test they can think of on those hair samples. And don't change the subject." He leaped to his feet and began running in his wheel.

"I'm not changing the subject." Kirby turned on the faucet and watched the water run.

"What's your problem? She just wants to talk with you once in a while. Even you could manage a civil conve-sation once in a while when you were a vaccum. What's wrong with talking to her now?"

"Since when was it any of your business." Kirby shot the rat a suspicious glance. "She say something to you?"

"No, of course she didn't! I…I just think youse two oughta spend more time together. You're sort of doing the same things as you used to." Ratso indicated the dinner. "I mean, you're cleaning, and she's-"

"Making toast?" Kirby exclaimed sarcastically.

"Well…helping the Master…"

"That's not the same thing." Kirby focused his full attention on the dishes. "And this is none of your business. I am trying to keep myself together until the hearing aids change me back. And if you don't like it, you can shove off!"

Ratso's reply never came. Something thumped against the backdoor twice before it swung opened, revealing a mountain of bags and boxes.

"See? I told you I had it, Thea!" The Mistress' voice floated from somewhere behind the bags as they entered. "Now I just have to find the table…"

The bags swayed. Kirby, quickly forseeing a mess on the floor, quickly shut off the water and grabbed the topmost boxes just as they shifted.

"Whew! That was close!" The Mistress shook her head and quickly dumped the rest of her baggage on the kitchen table. "Thanks, Jon! That would have been bad."

Kirby grunted as he set the boxes down beside hers and watched her dig through everything.

"You would not believe the time we had! I don't think I've had that much fun since Robbie was born! Mothers just don't get out much. Thea, hurry up and get in here! We have to sort this stuff! And we found some real deals," she continued to Kirby. "Even Rob would be proud! He is all about the deals! And making sure we never add to another landfill again!"

"Thank goodness!" A familiar bubbly laugh from the doorway followed the mistress's words. Unconsciously, Kirby looked towards it.

What he saw stopped him fast.

The figure just stepping over the threshold looked nothing like the toaster, even though it possessed her laugh and her voice. It didn't even bear a resemblance to the dumpy, unkempt thing that had been masquerading as human for the last week.

It had transformed.

The frizzy mess had been tamed into shiny curls that piled up high on her head, held firmly by a silver clip. Underneath a faded jean jacket, a blue tee dipped in a low neckline, teasing the eyes towards an ample bosom. Grey capris revealed curves that had gone unnoticed in Kris' maternity clothes. But though the colors dazzled and the clothing complimented, it was the glowing brown eyes and ecstatic smile that bewitched Kirby.

His thoughts spluttered like a coffee pot.

The smile and the sparkle disappeared, though when her eyes glanced at him. "Kirby? What's wrong?" she asked, rushing towards him.

Kirby flinched and stepped back involuntarily. He felt his mouth move, but no words came out.

The Mistress's snickering saved him. "I think I know what's wrong." She stood at the Toaster's side, putting an arm around her shoulders. "It's a little condition known as makeover shock, often experienced by friends and family. Isn't that right, John?"

Kirby couldn't even find the words to protest.

"Hey, you're both back," Rob's comment proceeded him as he entered the kitchen. "Whoa!"

Kirby didn't have to look at his master to share the same sentiment.

The Mistress' grin widened even as Toaster's brows knit together. "Gentlemen, may I present to you the new and improved Thea Masters."

Rob spluttered nervously. "Well…I wouldn't say improved, per se…but you look…"

"Beautiful." A hot flash rushed through Kirby as all eyes fell on him.

"Got your voice back, huh?" He didn't care for the way the Mistress's eyes rolled as she headed towards her husband. He felt uncomfortable at the shy smile the toaster was giving him.

"Rob, can you help us ladies carry these things upstairs?"

"Your outing was good then?" he heard the Master asked as the couple left the kitchen.

"I think we got a few things worked out." Their voices faded away as footsteps echoed on the staircase.

Kirby and Toaster were left in the kitchen. Together. In unmerciful silence.

"Hubba! Hubba!" Almost near silence. "Toaster, you are looking fly!"

"Is that good?" A pink blush was spreading across Toaster's face as she fiddled with her hands and glanced down at her feet.

"Yeah, baby. Bow chicka, bow wow!" Kirby felt his gorge rise, even though he didn't quite grasp the sentiment behind Ratso's cat calls.

"Aw, thanks." He didn't think Toaster understood either, but she had never seen the wrong side of anyone. Kirby followed her gaze to her feet, where mere slips of silver braid curved around her toes.

Toes…how odd…

"Hey, Kirby!" Ratso called out. "Whatcha think, huh? Ever thought a Toaster could look this good?"

Kirby immediately gave his attention to everything but the one being who watched him closely. He could feel those large eyes following his every move, reading his every thought…

"Oh. Knock it off!" he finally demanded, forsaking the sink-full of dishes to stomp to the freezer.

Lasagna, he decided, remembering the extra one he had made just a few days ago. That's what they would have for dinner. Spinach lasagna, meatless. Meat was too heavy for his stomach…

"Knock what off?" The voice sounded more annoyed than naïve. Kirby dug unforgivingly through the piles of cold bags and foil containers.

"Quit staring at me. I can't think." He grabbed the lasagna and slammed the door shut.

Sandals clicked on the tile. "What do you mean you can't think?"

"I can't think because you are staring at me!"

"You were staring at me."

"That was different."

"How is that different?" Toaster was at his elbow now, trying to peer up at his face.

Kirby was hard pressed to avoid looking at her. "I couldn't help myself. That's why." He fumbled with the lid.

"Stupid container. Sticking together." He stormed over to the sink and flipped on the hot water, grateful even in his agitation for a way of escape. He couldn't do this with her so near right now.

But Toaster persisted. "What do you mean you couldn't help yourself? What's going on with you?"

"What's going on with you!" Kirby slammed a fist against the tray, both smashing and cracking open the lid at the same time. He blinked at his handiwork for a moment, barely registering the hot water that continued to stream over his arm and into the open lasagna.

"What…what do you mean?" Toaster's whisper unnerved him.

"Look at you!" He flinched as the hot water scalded him. "How can you dress like that? Like a…a..." He couldn't even find the right words.

"It's just clothes. I…the Mistress just thought I might…" Toaster's voice faded. "Don't you…you don't think it's… okay?"

A small hand reached into Kirby's view and shut off the water. His hand cried in gratitude even as his eyes drank in the sight of the small brown hand resting on the sink.

"I was just…It was sort of fun," she continued. "The Mistress was so nice the whole time, and we talked about everything that's happened lately. She was never mad at me…she thought I was trying to keep her away from the Master…and I wasn't. Kirby, aren't you even happy that she's not mad at me?" The hand reached over to touch his fingers. "Can't we talk, too? Can't you tell me why you keep avoiding me?"

"No." Kirby swallowed a breath and closed his eyes to block out any picture.

"Why not?"

"…It's unnatural, Toaster," he heard himself saying. "It's is all just unnatural."

 _You're unnatural._ He hadn't meant to say it that way. But even he could hear it in the silence; those sharp, hurting words that stung the closest friend he had ever had. He felt her recoil.

He stood in that silence; a darkness that only elevated the Toaster's existence, feeling the burn that seemed to spread from his hand to places only his human body could understand.

Finally, he heard a rustle of fabric as the Toaster's hand withdrew.

"I'm sorry, Kirby." Kirby stood as still as he could manage until the click of her sandals faded. Only then did he open his eyes and turn on the facet to run cold water over his burn.


	7. And You'll Go

Chapter 7: And You'll Go Just Where You Want to Go

Dinner was quiet as everyone attempted to stomach the water- logged lasagna. Even the rolls Kirby had managed to whip together at the last minute did nothing to lighten the mood. The Master and Mistress noticed that something was amiss, and they glanced back and forth between their guests as they carried on a half-hearted conversation between themselves. Kirby would have avoided the table altogether if his stomach hadn't rumbled and pleaded for mercy (he hated, absolutely hated, the sensation of hunger). As it was, he placed himself as far down the table as possible to avoid the newly reformed toaster.

Even then, it was hard to keep his gaze fixed on his plate. The images of the laughing transformed vision that had stepped through the doorway played in his mind's eye over and over.

Toaster didn't join in the conversation, despite the couple's best attempts to include her. Out of the corner of his eye Kirby could see her fork moving languidly across her plate.

"Not hungry, Thea?" The Master ventured.

"Not really." Her voice was tired; heavy-and it was aimed in his direction.

Kirby willed himself not to look up. He'd spent all evening willing himself not to look, not to think, not to remember...

"You know, I was thinking I would clean out the attic tomorrow." The Mistress announced. "I haven't been able to do it since we moved here. I'm sure there's another bed frame up there- you remember, Rob, the one your aunt gave us?"

"Yeah." The Master chuckled. "It's a relic."

"Well, it wasn't my taste, but it might still have a good set of box springs. Then John could use it instead of the camping cot. What do you think, John? I bet you're ready for a real bed."

"I like the cot," Kirby stated, wishing they'd just leave him alone.

"A bed is so much nicer. You'd like it." Kirby flared at the soft words from across him. Of course, she'd want to start a fight.

"Sleeping on a counter is even better," he snapped back.

From the counter, Ratso guffawed.

"Uh oh, was that a cough?" The Mistress asked, as everyone looked over at the rat. Ratso played innocent, but Kirby glared at him anyway. He didn't need feedback from the peanut gallery.

"Hm. It didn't sound like one to me." Rob went back to his dinner.

"Well, I can't offer you a counter, but the bed is free for the taking. Especially after all your hard work." Chris extended her spoon in a gesture.

Kirby raised his eyes to acknowledge her. "The cot suits me just fine. Thank you," he added, trying to soften his voice at the pained look in her eyes.

"Well, I'll pull it out anyway. You might change your mind."

"He doesn't change his mind. You're wasting your time." Toaster's glass clunked against the table in a jolt that made even Kirby jump.

"At least I know what I want," he retorted. He glared so hard at the plate that design blurred together. "And I appreciate what I have. Unlike some people…"

"I've always known what I wanted. And when didn't I appreciate what I had, Kirby? Just tell me when?"

He grunted, unable to think of a good retort and restless with what he was holding back.

"Alright, you two. Out with it. What's wrong?" The Mistress pushed her plate away.

"Chris…"

"No, Rob, I'm not just going to keep quiet anymore. It's time we worked some of this stuff out. Now, you two have been at odds since John showed up. So spill."

"Nothing," Toaster said, dejectedly. "It's…an old fight. We always fight."

Kirby snorted. "We most certainly do not!" he snapped, looking straight at her before he could stop himself. His resolve faltered at the sight of her, and immediately his mind wheeled to that night in her room, his overwhelming desire to touch her...

"Then, why are we fighting now?" Toaster looked sadly at him. "Kirby, what do I keep doing that's so terrible?"

He was hurting her. He knew it. He could see it. And he couldn't tell her why. He couldn't even see himself.

Startled, Kirby stared back her, wordless as understanding crept over him. Yes, that's what happened that night. That's what confused him every time he looked at her. Every time he had looked at the toaster before, he had always seen some part of himself reflected back. He had eased himself in that reflection. But now, for the first time, he looked at her and could not see himself. Instead, he saw the same look that every woman had when they wanted something and couldn't ask. Every housewife who had lost control, who worried, who wanted to be held and had no one to hold them. Sometimes he boiled against the ones responsible for their pain; those boyfriends, husbands, even children who hurt and then left the wounded one to grieve in silence.

Now he was causing that hurt in someone, and he couldn't admit why. So he hung his head.

"It's not in my prime directive," he said.

Ratso guffawed again, louder this time.

"Okay," Rob rose from his chair, almost too quickly. "That definitely didn't sound right." He picked up the unit and held it at eye level. "I think I'll take this little guy out to the surgery tonight. Just to be sure."

"Here, I'll do it." The Mistress also moved too fast as she hurried to take Ratso from him. "Wouldn't want you to strain yourself."

Kirby couldn't help feeling avenged as the unit disappeared from the kitchen. That was what that stupid rodent got for interfering.

He heard Toaster sigh. "I think I'll just go upstairs."

"Oh, sure," the Master replied, sitting down again. "Um, if you put your dinner in the fridge, you can have it later…"

"Thanks, but I don't really want it." Kirby heard the trashcan lift and Toaster shaking the plate's contents into the bag. "Goodnight, everyone."

Kirby just sat there as she walked off, staring at his untouched plate, and wrestling with feelings that were too overbearing to handle.

* * *

"…And ten…and twelve…and thirteen…" Toaster sat cross-legged on the guest bed, head tilted to one side as she ran a brush against the side of her head. The sober hairdresser who had worked the tangles out had told her to brush her hair on each side exactly thirty times each night.

"What if I lose count?" Toaster had asked, clutching her new round hairbrush. The laugh that erupted from Kris, and the grinning way the hairdresser had called her, "a sweetheart," hadn't exactly answered her question. Nonetheless, she had waited for complete silence to count in peace. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.

"…And thirty!" She brandished the hairbrush in triumph before setting it tenderly on the nightstand. She ran her fingers through the newly brushed hair, marveling at its softness. The hairdresser had commented, once the tangles were combed through, that the hair was baby soft. Having only the little master to compare to, Toaster would have had to take her word for it. Nonetheless, she found she loved the touch of the hair. Tangles all gone, she enjoyed running her fingers through it, feeling it swish by like a sheet of rain.

She had never felt so satisfied in her life

The girls' afternoon out had been everything Chris promised and more. The mall they had gone to was crowded with sights and sounds more wonderful than she could have imagined. Humans wandered here and there, laughing, shopping, waving and calling at each other; Toaster would have been perfectly content to stand in the center of the mall, with the large crystal-like skyscraper overhead, and just watch people. But Chris had taken her arm and ushered her from one store to the next; one delight to another.

She had always thought shopping was just a silly thing humans did to pass the time. Now she knew better.

Toaster rose from the bed and walked to the closet, carefully sliding back one side to admire its contents. She ran her hand over the colorful clothes, enjoying the way the hangers clacked against the rod. The stores had intimated her at first, but Chris had kept a firm hand on her all throughout. She had accepted every item given her; grudging colors and shapes, and even fabrics with uncertain shrugs. Chris' enthusiasm and the eagerness of the sales clerks outweighed her uncertainty. Their quarrel had been completely forgotten in Chris' attempts to dolly up her new friend.

"Friend," Toaster murmured, fingering a sleeveless floral dress. She remembered clearly how Kris had swept it off the rack to hold against her, asking a nearby salesperson if they had it in another size.

"Just in case my friend needs something a little smaller."

Somehow that one word had made all the difference. Toaster warmed to the task, and even found herself partial to everything sky blue and gold. The dress had fit, perfectly, and so did everything else that followed.

They had talked. When she was just seconds away from being worn to pieces by the adventures, Chris called a halt and treated her to a cherry cream shake in the food court. That's where, for the first time, Toaster learned everything about the Mistress: growing up in a military family, parents divorcing when she was twelve, and having them fight over her until she was ready to run away from everything…how she was afraid she'd lose Rob the same way…

"Oh, no!" Toaster had exclaimed, reaching across the table to hug Chris tightly. "That will never happen to you, too! Rob loves you so much!"

Chris' eyes had filled with tears, though she only hugged her back. Toaster wished she could tell her everything, too, but knew her own adventures would only confuse the human. So, when her turn to talk came, she'd only talked about feeling useless, losing her friends, and feeling abandoned.

"Well, you're not abandoned anymore," Chris had reassured her. "You're staying with us until you know what you want to do. Okay?"

"Okay."

Toaster slipped the dress from the hanger and tossed it over her head. The zipper took some maneuvering, but even after a week of being human she found herself able to dress with little fuss. The sash tied snuggly around her waist, and she held out her arms for balance as she looked down to examine the skirt. It swished and rustled nicely.

Too bad Kirby hated everything human. Toaster dropped her arms with a sigh as she glanced in the mirror.

Or maybe he just hated her for being human.

Maybe it was her fault. She stared at herself in the nearby mirror, taking in everything different as she kept the dress pressed against her. Maybe somehow she had wished for it all to happen so she could be human. Maybe there was some old appliance code that turned one human if they admired humans long enough. It was true that she was the only appliance ever to admire one human so closely. Perhaps Kirby was right in thinking she was unnatural.

 _Unnatural._

Toaster gasped, and struggled to get out of the dress. With a grunt, she flung it onto the floor of the closet and slammed the door shut. So, she was unnatural? Well, fine. She pulled open a nearby drawer and dug around its new items. She'd go admit it to Kirby. She tell exactly how she felt, and demand that he talk to her. She and Chris had talked. Now it was their turn.

And she wouldn't deign antagonize him anymore, she decided, as she pulled out the old maternity clothes.

* * *

Kirby was sitting in the living room in the dark, holding an empty tea cup in his hands when she came downstairs. Rob and Chris had gone to bed long ago. They would be alone.

She hadn't quite made up her mind what to say when Kirby snapped up his head to watch her storm down the stairs. Instead, she let her fury speak as she planted herself in front of him, legs apart and hands on her hips.

"We need to talk," she demanded, as he stared at her.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his eyes darted over her in wild bemusement.

"Why are you dressed like that again?"

"Oh, no," Toaster warned, holding up her hand. "We are not talking about clothes this time. Or human duties, or prime directives, or anything! We are going to talk about us! You and me!"

Kirby's brows drew together. "I thought you and the Mistress spent all afternoon shopping for things so you wouldn't have to wear those rags!"

"I said we're not talking about clothes!" Toaster stomped her foot, half glad that the carpet muffled the sound. She didn't want to wake anyone. "I want you to stop avoiding me and start talking to me! It's the only way we're going to get to figure this out! It's not my fault! You hear me? It's not my fault!"

"Talk?" Kirby grumbled, the sounds rumbling around like he was trying to find the right words. "What exactly do we have to talk about?"

"Anything! Something! Just as long as you talk to me! Please!" She clasped her hands together as the knot in her chest tightened. "I need you to talk to me!"

"Need me?" Kirby looked absolutely baffled. "Need me? What do you need me for? You…you don't need anything but the Master…and your experiences! Your confladded experiences!" Spluttering, he pushed himself up from the couch and stomped towards the kitchen. "Go talk to someone who cares about your experiences!"

Toaster raced to the doorway to block his path. "That's not fair! Why are being so cruel?"

"Cruel? Cruel?" His face reddened. "You want to know what's cruel!" He pounded his chest. "This is cruel!" He grabbed his hair. "This is cruel! Being human is cruel! And you," he jabbed a finger in her face, "did this to us!"

"You know that's not true!" Toaster balled her hands into fists, though tears threatened at her eyes.

"Oh, yeah?" Kirby's eyes burned into hers as he menaced her. "It's not true? Thea." He spat the word into her face.

"No, it's not. _John_." She shot back.

"Well, you could have fooled me! Prancing in here all dressed up! Why don't you go upstairs, _Thea_ , and put on some of those newfangled things the Mistress bought you? Or go out to the clinic and wow the Master."

"You're one to talk! Why don't you bake some more lasagna?" Toaster shot back.

"Get out of my way." Kirby swept her aside with one hand and continued his march into the kitchen. Toaster followed. "Or wash some dishes, or mop some floors? You're yelling at me about prime directives and being human, and you're running around all day doing everything Chris asks! Where's your prime directive?"

"What else can I do?" The tea cup nearly shattered as Kirby dropped it into the sink "There's nothing else to do! I'm doing everything I can just to stay sane!"

"You do it just fine! You're going to parks, making friends-!"

"But I don't want to! I don't want to do any of this! Not like this! Not by myself! When I was an appliance, at least I was never alone!"

"You've got me!" Toaster thrust herself between him and the sink. "I'm right here!"

Kirby backed away, turning his face from her. "I can't even look at you!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong!"

"What is?"

"You…dressed like that. Standing there, like that!"

"But WHY is it wrong? Tell me!"

"Tell you? Tell you?" Kirby finally looked at her.

"Yes! You can trust me!" She pressed her hands to her chest.

"Trust you? You-You weren't even here when it happened!" Kirby thundered. "You weren't even at the accident! I looked for you-for anyone-for three days! No one was there! And you want me to TRUST you?" His voice screamed of desperation. "I was abandoned! You abandoned me!"

"I know!" Toaster could feel tears starting. They matched the waterworks threatening in the sharp eyes staring her down. "Don't you think I know that? I was alone, too! I was all alone in the car wreck and the hospital, and now I'm alone here! You think you're doing everything you can? I don't know what to do either! But now I'm here! We're here! Talk to me! Quit avoiding me! It's you and me together! Quit acting like I don't…!"

Kirby moved. For a split second they were staring at each other, tears threatening and emotions raw. In the next, Toaster was caught up in Kirby's arms, held tight against his chest. She lost her breath; when she found it, she could feel Kirby's chest heaving, and his hands clutching tightly at her back and her head. She felt his breath in her hair as he fought back his sobs.

She felt a sudden release of all the fear and wistfulness and guilt that had eaten away at her slowly for days. She clutched at him, and couldn't say a word; only grateful for his touch as he hugged her.

After some time she felt him loosen his grip. She whimpered and tried to tighten her hold on him. Kirby, however, only pulled back far enough to look down on her. His eyes were heavy, tired, though the tears were gone, and he smiled fondly at her.

"Oh, Kirby," she gasped, still feeling tears threaten. She thought of more that she wanted to say-how they'd figure it out, and she'd never abandoned him-and opened her mouth to say them. The hand that rose to cup her cheek and the finger that deftly swept the tear back from her eye silenced her. Her skin tingled under his touch, every nerve aflame as his eyes focused unwavering on hers.

For a long moment, they stood like that, Toaster holding Kirby with both arms while his hand rested firm and warm on her cheek. Then, Kirby bent his head and kissed her.

Kissed her.

He kissed her.

Kirby, the grumpy, muttering vacuum cleaner, kissed her.

And she, the little toaster, kissed him back. Her mind reeled with sensation, the taste of peppermint tea still lingering on his lips, the roughness of his mustache against her skin; the heat of his body as he clasped his arm around her shoulders while the hand cupping her cheek glided into her hair. A great warmth passed through her, flaming in her belly.

This was…this was…

"Ouch." She broke the kiss as a corner of the counter dug sharply in her back.

"I'm sorry…" she apologized breathlessly as he straightened up. "Don't stop…" Kirby cut her off with a grunt as he grasped her by the waist and hefted her up on the counter.

"I can't stop," he exclaimed as she struggled to get her bearings, and claimed her mouth again with more fervency. She flung an arm around his neck, using her free hand to brace herself on the counter. She gasped for breath as Kirby's mouth, no longer content with her lips, moved down her neck, ravishing her clavicle and sucking at the hollow of her neck. His hands touched her everywhere, from her hair to the back of her neck, to sliding down to clasp the small of her back. Her body responded to his ministrations in waves that rippled down her belly. She found her own hand roaming over his shoulders and chest, feeling them tremble, before grasping at the short hairs on his head.

Her hand suddenly slipped on the counter, and she would have toppled backwards if Kirby's arms hadn't braced her from behind. She shut her eyes, resting in his grasp.

"Are—are you okay?" she heard him gasp. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her with wide eyes.

"I'm fine." Touched by his sudden tenderness, Toaster wrapped both arms around his neck, smiling up at him. "I'm…perfectly fine."

No. She lied. Strong feelings bubbled inside of her. She wanted to throw back her head and laugh until her heart burst. She wanted him to hold her and never let go. She couldn't understand it. A moment ago she had been furious with him. Unable to find a voice for those desires, she instead reached up to stroke the whiskers on his cheek

Kirby shuddered with the caress, and he pressed his head against her breasts. Toaster set her cheek to the top of his head.

"I…I don't know what's happening." Kirby's voice, husky with passion, whispered.

"Me neither."

"I've never felt this way before."

"Me neither." Toaster chuckled nervously.

"What…what do we do now?"

"I don't know," she replied, shivering at his warm breath on her breasts. Her fingers traced the curve of his ear, and she suddenly, impulsively, licked it.

Kirby shook in response. It wasn't an answer they were looking for, but Kirby suddenly found what he wanted. With a choked sound, he hoisted Toaster from the counter and carried her from the kitchen. Fighting back a startled yelp, Toaster clung to his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist for dear life as he crossed the living room in two strides. She buried her face in his neck-dizzy from his musky scent- so it wasn't until after she felt herself descending that she realized he had carried her into the basement. She raised her head as he halted, taking in the single dim light and a neatly made cot and coffee table. For a moment, he stood at the bottom of the stairs, the night's chill, unusual for August, raised gooseflesh on them both. Kirby hesitated; Toaster felt his arms tighten around her as though he was suddenly aware of her.

"Kirby?" she whispered, unnerved by the echo of her voice.

Kirby's response was to make his way to the cot. The tender way with which he handled her, bending slowly and supporting her head, as he laid her down that her heart ached. She lay looking up at him, as he knelt down, one arm encircling her shoulders as the other rested on the mattress, the fingers stroking her hair.

"Toaster…" There was the familiar gruff edge to his voice, but it was laced with something else now; an odd, hopeful longing.

"Me, too," she answered, eagerly, as she held his face with her hands. His eyes brightened with her permission-though what she had offered permission for exactly she couldn't say. She just knew deeply, with a truth that went beyond her knowledge as a human or an appliance, that she trusted him in everything. As he kissed her forehead, she trusted him. As he trailed kisses down her cheek and neck, she trusted him. As his hands slipped underneath her blouse to caress skin, she trusted him.

As her hands carefully mimicked his, she knew he trusted her, too.

The cot groaned as Kirby rested one knee by her thigh, straddling her without putting full weight on her. If the cot's supports had chosen to buckle, neither of them might not have noticed. Toaster was too intent on grasping and tugging Kirby's shirt to bring him closer, and Kirby was far too eager in his attempts to gather Toaster's blouse in one fist. The basement was damp and cool, but Toaster only felt Kirby's warmth as he stretched out over her. She helped him lift the blouse over her head, moaning when his mouth touched her bared skin. She hardly noticed when the sweatpants slid down her waist, nor did he seem to notice when she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his chest. She found herself searching for something; something only the human body that encased her seemed to understand.

At the same moment Kirby's hand slid up between her legs, her hands brushed over the waist of his.

"Oh!" They paused to look up at each other, eyes wide and breaths stopping in shock. For a moment they stared deeply at each other, both waiting for some signal from each other. Toaster knew deeply-she couldn't understand how she knew-that what happened next would change everything for her; for them.

She also felt Kirby's fingers, oh, so close, still and waiting for her permission.

Without breaking his gaze, she reached down to guide him further. In silent agreement, Kirby continued.

In the end, they made their discovery together. Both equally unschooled and undisciplined, they nonetheless uncovered the secret that made life itself both possible and pleasurable. Like Adam and Eve in the garden, they became one, guided only by a hand as mysterious and profound as that which had created humanity. Their first time finished, they lay gasping and clinging to each other, fresh with sweat and amazement.

The second time, they broke the cot.

* * *

On waking, Kirby immediately felt for the plump figure beside him. He didn't have far to look; she was still curled against him, her head resting on his bicep. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of her breathing, but his memories were of her deep breaths and gasps of pleasure. He buried his face in her dark hair, breathing in her scent.

Yes. Her scent. He marveled that the Toaster he had known for years possessed a scent so intoxicating. What it was exactly he couldn't guess; it was just her. Everything was her. The light in her eyes when she gazed at him, the way her hands, so small, grabbed at him. He'd been avoiding her for weeks, unable to look at her in his own disgust. Now he couldn't get enough of admiring her, touching her. He slid his hand up her shirt again, gently feeling the swell of her breast.

He had never felt this way in his life.

She moved in her sleep, breathing out with a small sound and turning so that he could see her sleeping face. Kirby placed a kiss on her lips and her nose, pleased when she smiled in her sleep. He'd known the toaster for most of his life; he'd seen the chrome finish sparkling on the kitchen counter of the cabin when she'd first been tugged from her box. He tolerated her, just as he tolerated any other obnoxious appliance. She smiled and laughed far too often for his taste.

Now, though, he'd never known a laugh so perfect, or a smile so beautiful. Was this what made humans so special? This touching and feeling? Is that what it was like to be human? To touch and be touched in that way? He ached for that newfound element of their friendship.

Light sprang across her body as he watched her sleep, demanding his reluctant attention. He didn't want to leave, but his internal clock nagged him with a sudden list of his duties. Chores had always been his prime directive and even as a human he couldn't ignore that first duty for which he had been made. Robbie would be waking, hungry for breakfast, and there was a sink full of dishes that he hadn't finished last night. So, he rose from the cot, wincing as broken supports and springs creaked.

Toaster only turned over on her side without waking. As an appliance, he would have scoffed at her laziness. As a human possessed, he only felt fondness for his small friend.

He straightened his shirt and slacks, lingering only long enough to caress Toaster's dark hair away from her eyes and tuck the blanket around her. He saw no reason to wake her; yet.

Half of him, though he couldn't admit it, hoped she'd still be asleep when he returned.

The baby was only just stirring when he arrived, and within half an hour he was back downstairs with the tot bouncing gleefully on his arm. While the baby sucked away at a bottle in his highchair, Kirby cleaned the kitchen and set the stove warming eggs and bacon for breakfast. He had to rely on his hands for memory; his mind was far too taken with images of the woman in the basement and the way she had laughed and moaned under his touch.

He could barely contain himself when the master and mistress finally came. While they filled their plates high and sweet talked with Robbie, Kirby made a hasty retreat back to the basement. With only an ounce of light gleaming from the tiny west facing window, the basement remained darker and cooler than the rest of the house. He paused at the bottom of the steps to allow his eyes to adjust, relieved that the Toaster was still asleep on the broken cot.

"Toaster," he murmured, easing down by her side.

The woman moaned. "Kirby…"

"Come on, lazybones," he urged fondly, drawing the blanket back with one hand while the other slid down her bared waist. "It's morning. There's breakfast." He bent to kiss her.

"Kirby." Her panicked plea stopped him. Her eyes were tear stained and wide with panic as she looked up at him, begging silently for help. She moaned again, clutching her belly, and tried to sit up. Kirby moved to help her, abruptly starting as his fingers touched sticky dampness on the inside of her thighs. In a fearful panic, he flung the blankets off the cot. In the dark, he could just barely make out a stain darkening the mattress between Toaster's thighs.

"What?"

"…I'm sorry…" The toaster fainted.


	8. Time Flies By

Chapter 8: Time Flies By in the City of Lights

"You expect me to believe that THIS is natural!" Kirby, still shaking in his anxiety, focused his attention solely on the woman stretched out weakly on the couch. A stack of pillows elevated her legs while her head lay flat on the cushions; a knit throw had been tossed around her in a modicum of decency.

Chris' sat at the toaster's side, her fingers gently rubbing the other's abdomen while Rob refilled a hot water bottle in the kitchen.

"It's just a woman thing," she said, offering him a soothing smile. She accepted the hot bottle from Rob and tucked it against the toaster's side. "Some just have a harder time with the pain than others." She reached over to smooth loose hair away from Toaster's face.

Kirby relaxed as Toaster's eyelids finally fluttered open and she smiled weakly before closing them again.

"Here." Rob offered him a damp towel. Kirby blinked at it before Rob indicated the blood on his fingers. He wiped it off as best as he could, then used a clean corner to wipe his brow as his shaking began to subside.

What a morning it had been. The horror of finding Toaster bleeding in his cot had ruptured any common sense he had. His shouts, pleas, and attempts to shake her into consciousness had only brought Rob and Chris racing into the basement.

"Oh! Oh, my gosh!"

"Wha-what happened?"

Kirby couldn't tell them. He couldn't even begin to guess what had happened. He was too busy using the blankets to staunch the bleeding to even explain how and why the toaster had ended up in his cot. There had been no time for any explanation anyway. Under Rob's quick instructions, Kirby had carried her into the living room and laid her on the couch. He'd then been unceremoniously shoved aside as the two humans sprang into action, checking her pulse, her blood pressure, and cleaning her in places Kirby himself had only just discovered the night before. Somehow they'd revived her long enough to get her to swallow some pain medication, all the while debating back and forth between them whether a 911 call was necessary.

All the while he had watched and waited, swallowing his panic and deep, deep regret. It reminded him sharply of standing on a cliff's edge, watching as she and the other dimwits plunged into the depths of a waterfall; that terrible, helpless feeling.

And they expected Kirby to believe that the bleeding was normal. Normal!

"Bleeding is not normal," he insisted, passing his clean hand over his face.

"Menstruation," Chris said sarcastically. "God's gift to women."

Rob's hand patted his shoulder. "The pain meds should take care of things. She just needs some sleep now." Kirby met the vet's smile with uncertainly. "Don't worry. Chris goes through this every month, too." He lowered his voice. "And she's a lot louder about it."

Chris whacked the back of his head in response as she walked by with the soiled blankets balled under her arm. Rob feigned a grimace.

"I'm, um, going to go see if I can fix that cot."

Kirby wasn't sure what to make of his muttered, "Or probably just need to throw the whole thing out," as Rob thumped down the stairs. It didn't really matter to him, anyway.

Chris returned with some of Toaster's clothes.

"I'm guessing privacy between you two is moot at this point," she said, glancing at Kirby, "but you think you could leave us alone for just a moment?"

"Oh." Kirby rubbed the back of his head as he watched her unwrap some type of cloth square. "I guess I…I could…"

"Check on Robbie?" Chris ventured, as the little boy called out from the kitchen.

Taking the hint from her tone, Kirby hurried to do as she asked. By the time Robbie was cleaned up from breakfast (and the highchair he'd decorated during the adults' absence cleaned up as well), Chris had finished helping Toaster dress and was walking into the kitchen.

"She'll be fine," she reassured Kirby, as she tossed the wrapper into the trash. "Though I gotta say, you two sure work things out fast. Bet you want that bed now, huh?"

Kirby wasn't sure he appreciated the smirk she gave him, though he did feel grateful when she took Robbie out of his arms, adding gently, "Here, I've got him. You go sit with her for a while. Yeah? She's asking for you."

Heart beating, Kirby only managed a nod as he rushed back into the living room.

Still wrapped up in the blanket, Toaster had curled up on her side, hugging the water bottle tightly. There was some color in her cheeks again, he saw as he stooped down to stroke her temple.

She stirred, and he was relieved to see the recognition in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Hey there," she murmured.

"Hey there," he echoed, uncertain. He ran his thumb over her chin. "How do you feel?"

"Mm, better, I think. Kirby, that was the worst pain I've ever felt." She grasped his hand.

"Yeah." It was the worst thing he'd ever experienced. Menstruation…periods…it still made little sense to him. All he cared about was one specific detail…He bent to whisper in her ear.

"They said it wasn't…wasn't what we did last night."

"I know," Toaster agreed. "Chris told me."

"Oh. I-I-I'm sorry."

"Why? You didn't do anything."

"I know…but I-I…" Her hand brushed his temple, comforting him.

"I'm not upset, Kirby. Really."

He watched her cautiously. "You sure?"

"Mhm. It wasn't your fault." She winced.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, panic returning.

"Nothing…I'm really tired. And sore."

"Would you…would you rather be upstairs in bed?" Kirby blinked. Where had that offer come from?

Toaster considered the couch before nodding, starting to sit up.

In one fail swoop, Kirby lifted her, the blanket and the water bottle. After she took a startled breath, she wrapped both arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I've got you," he announced, and flushed at her chuckle. Of course, she knew he was holding her. What was he thinking? Clearing his throat, he headed up the stairs, moving as carefully as he could so as not to jostle her. Within minutes they were in her bedroom, and he was settling her in bed. She curled up again as he tucked the comforter around her, ignoring the water bottle as it slipped. Kirby rescued it from the floor.

"Should I refill it?" he asked, judging its coolness.

Toaster shook her head as she hugged the pillow. "No. It doesn't hurt so much anymore. I just feel…sleepy."

"I'll leave you alone, then." Kirby lingered to kiss her cheek and tuck the blanket under her chin. He walked away, slowly, glancing back every so often, just to be sure…

"Kirby?"

He stopped in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"…Don't leave. Please?"

Without answering, he quickly closed the door and hurried back to slip into the bed beside her. He wrapped both arms around her, kissing the top of her head as she rested comfortably against him.

* * *

It took four days for the bleeding to stop.

"But at least it's finally stopped!" Toaster sighed in relief as she washed her hands at the bathroom sink and fixed her ponytail. The first couple of days she had been uncomfortable, wary of those first sharp pains, and though Chris had given her a bag of sanitary napkins and showed her how to wear them, she had still ruined several pairs of underwear and stained a new pair of jeans.

Still, if Chris said it was normal, then it must be normal.

"It's odd, though," she had told Kirby, as she watched him try a homemade stain removal formula on her jeans. "How come no one ever mentioned that women bleed once a month?"

"Why would they?" Kirby scrubbed at the stain. "Why would any appliance need to know that?"

He was right, of course. It was not information that appliances would pay attention to. It made her realize more than ever how little they knew about humans; how vast the human experience truly was.

"Well, just one more experience you've added to your repertoire," Kirby replied, albeit cheeky as he grinned at her.

"Just count yourself lucky!" she retorted. "You'll never bleed like that."

"Thank goodness!" He'd handed her the jeans, as good as new, and she'd rewarded him with a kiss.

Despite her ordeal, the last four days had changed everything for them. Between them. That night had opened up a world neither had known anything about, though Toaster realized now that she had been craving it for a long time.

The thought thrilled her.

Now she understood why Chris had wanted Rob's attention so badly. Now she understood why humans liked to touch, and cuddle, and kiss. She adored Kirby's kisses, his way of grasping her in between tasks and taking sips of her until she was lightheaded from his touch. At times he grasped the edges of her jacket to pull her in close, keeping her trapped with only his gaze alone.

They were sharing the guest bedroom now, as well, with only a silent understanding between them and the two humans. Toaster had woken up from her nap that day to find Chris and Kirby carrying an old queen-size bed frame down from the attic. Piece by piece, they replaced it with the single bed that had been there.

"Just take it easy for a few more days," was her only comment to Toaster as she dressed it with clean sheets. "Making love is tough when you're on your period."

Making love…Toaster smiled as her cheeks flushed in memory. Yes, that was exactly what she and Kirby had done: Made love. More than that, though: Kirby was smiling at her more; speaking to her in every spare moment he could find. He was greeting her in the morning with a smile and a caress, happy to see her. He was coming back from the park, full of stories to tell about people, new friends, and urging her to tell him everything she could see and feel.

They were together. Finally.

"He likes bread and butter!" Toaster sang at the top of her lungs as she danced into the living room. "He likes toast and jam!" She and Rob had taken care of the last appointment for the day, and he had sent her off to clean up while he finished some paperwork. It was early; a glance at the clock told her that Kirby would be back from the park with Robbie soon.

Good. She missed him, in more ways than one. The whole morning in the surgery her mind had been on him. She couldn't wait to tell him that the bleeding had stopped. He had been patient and gentle with her the last few nights, but she knew without his saying that he wanted to be with her just like they had that first night. She felt the same impatience. While she loved having his arms wrapped around her every night, she couldn't wait to make love to him again.

She giggled. A toaster giggling; how absurdly wonderful was that? "That's what his baby feeds him! He's her loving man!" She threw her arms above her head and twirled, feeling the ponytail fly.

"Why, hello, sunshine!" She heard someone greeting as the front door opened. She spun around to see Chris watching her, an amused smile on her tired face. "You are way too happy for someone who just gave a puppy booster shots."

"How did you know?" Toaster asked.

"I stopped inside the clinic to say hi to Rob. He said you two had quite the busy day." Chris's fingers fumbled as she removed her bank name plate from her white shirt and sank down on the couch, but her smile was as friendly as ever as she patted the empty seat beside her.

Toaster laughed and bounced down beside her. "Busy, yes! How was the bank?"

"Don't get me started." She slapped the name plate down on the coffee table. "I just don't have much patience with idiots-especially the ones that can't tell a penny from a nickel. But at least something good is about to come out of it. A coworker is trying to sell a van."

"Really?" Toaster gasped, as eager to see Chris' excitement as she was with the news.

"Really. And the price doesn't sound half bad. Rob said he'd come by in the next day or two to look at it. Who knows? Maybe things are looking up after all!"

"Finally!" Toaster accepted the hug Chris offered her. Things were looking up for them. There were no more strained moments between the two of them, or fights between Chris and Rob. It seemed everyone had settled into a better frame of mind.

"Now, spill," Chris demanded, breaking the hug. "What's got you so upbeat? Period finished?"

Toaster nodded. "And…I just can't wait to see Kirby," she admitted.

"Why? Miss having your ears grumbled out?" Chris hugged her again with one arm. "Or is it something else he does with that mouth of his?"

"Hmm." Toaster bit her lip, considering the question. "I guess it's the something else."

Now Chris' laugh echoed through the house. "Thea! Good grief! You really do move fast!" She loosened her hair from the bun at the nape of her neck, setting the hair pins beside the name plate on the coffee table. "Less than a week ago you two were at each other's throats! Now you're warming it up in the bedroom!"

"Warming it up…I like that!" Toaster smiled fondly. "I guess we made up alright."

"That's some make up!" Chris tugged her ponytail. "I'm glad you're getting along, but just be careful you don't have too many fights, or you'll really end up with something to fight over!"

"What do you mean?" Toaster asked, following Chris as she headed into the kitchen.

Chris selected a glass from the cabinet and got a drink from the kitchen sink. Toaster leaned against the counter, catching a glimpse at Ratso as she waited for Chris to finish. The rat winked at and made some gesture she couldn't understand. She shook her head at him. There had been no chance at conversation with him the last few days, though from a brief conversation between and Kirby she had learned that her emergency had been the talk of the household appliances.

As for what they'd seen of her and Kirby in the kitchen, she didn't know. Kirby absolutely refused to repeat what Ratso had said during their last conversation…

Chris finished her drink with a sigh. "Well, don't get me wrong, I love Robbie. He was a pleasant surprise, but surprise all the same." She fingered a pacifier that was lying on the window sill above the sink and held it out towards Toaster with her pinky. "Sometimes he makes my love life a little more complicated. Get my drift?"

Toaster stared blankly at her. "You think Kirby and I will fight over Robbie?"

Now it was Chris' turn to stare blankly as she dropped the pacifier. "What? No. I meant you might end up with a baby if you weren't careful."

"I would?" That was news to Toaster. "How?"

She stood eagerly as Chris' humor vanished into bewilderment.

"Um…Oh, boy…" Chris reached out to take Toaster by the shoulder and guide her to a chair. "Thea, maybe you'd better put off any love making plans with John until we've scheduled an appointment with a gynecologist. And had a little talk together…"

"Gynecologist?" Toaster wrinkled her nose as she tried to remember that was.

"Yeah, she has something you're gonna need."

"Really?" Toaster watched her pick up the phone and tap a few numbers. "What?"

"A little something most women affectionately call 'the pill'."

* * *

Kirby could hear the shower running as he opened the front door and tugged the stroller inside.

"Sounds like your mother is home," he said, letting Robbie out of the stroller. "Hope she's not upset that we're back late."

"Mommy!" Robbie kicked his legs and pulled at his seat belt.

"…He likes bread and butter...he likes toast and jam…" Kirby chuckled as the voice rang out from upstairs as well.

"She's home, too," he said, fondly, bending to unlock the seatbelt. And just what an afternoon he had to tell her…

"Mommy!" Robbie dashed past Kirby before the vacuum could do a double-take.

"Now, hold up!" Kirby shoved the stroller to one side. "She's busy! Come get your snack and you'll see her later!"

But the little boy was already half-way up the stairs. Kirby tried to overtake him, though a dull pain in his back made the going difficult.

"You idiot," he grumbled to himself, rubbing the sore spot. "You just had to be a show-off, didn't you? Giving those kids pony rides?" Yet, even though each step up the stairs jostled him, he still didn't regret keeping an eye on Colette's twins. An emergency call from her oldest son's grade school had her dashing every which way, trying to call her younger toddlers while grabbing her keys, dropping her keys, calling her sons, dropping her purse, yelling at them to stop throwing sand…

"Oh, I'll just watch them," Kirby had finally told her, fed up with watching her stumble all over herself.

"Oh no, no, no!" Colette kept trying to brush the dirt from her purse. "I couldn't ask you to do that! Who knows how long it will take to pick him up…"

Kirby found himself sharing a glance with Mary, the most levelheaded of the small group of friends, who had nodded at him and stepped to take Colette by the shoulders.

"You says you're asking, Honey? John's offering! And I'd take him up on it while he still is, if I were you!" Kirby had left the two of them to hash it out while he stepped into the jungle gym area to stop the twins from tossing sand. The boys were the most rambunctious sort he'd seen at the playground, but one firm glance from him and both had dropped the sand immediately.

"Piggy back! Piggy back!" they exclaimed, running up to grab at his arms. And he'd given them each a ride around the playground, like the idiot he was. Of course, Robbie wanted one when he saw them. And Judy's little boy and girl. And every bleeding kid at the playground…

"You are such a softie," Judy exclaimed, when he had finally said no to all requests for just one more ride. "How do you get them to listen?"

"Bother me if I know!" Kirby snapped, though even he couldn't hide a smile at the thought of kids liking him. He glanced down at the watch Rob had given him, noting that the rides had only lasted ten minutes. "Did you convince her?"

"She went," Mary replied, from where she sat on the bench, pushing her son's stroller back and forth as he slept. "Though who knows what she'll find. That's the fourth time this week Cole's blood sugar levels have spiked."

"That can't be easy," Kirby mumbled, taking a seat beside her. "With her husband gone away."

"And least he's coming back when his tour ends," Judy announced. Kirby winced at the bitterness in her voice. "Not everyone is as lucky to have a husband that wants to come home."

He heard Mary sigh as she gently replied, "Not all military wives consider themselves lucky, sweetie."

But even as Judy went into yet another rant about her separation, Kirby couldn't helping as sorry for her as he was for Colette. Over the last few weeks, he'd come to know them all very well. He knew Colette struggled to keep her boys to mind as she waited for Alex's deployment to end. He knew Judy still cried in her sleep over Frederick, even though he had left her over a year ago. He knew Mary still struggled with the miscarriages she'd had after Piper's birth, even though giving birth to little Sam was proof that there was nothing wrong with her. He felt all their pain strongly, sometimes he even admired them for it.

After that episode with Toaster, he felt he could even relate to them all the more; maybe even help them through it, if he could. Though he was twenty minutes late getting Robbie home, the grateful look on Colette's face when she finally came to collect the twins was worth both that and the pain in his back. It had felt right, and good and absolutely natural.

 _Natural…_

"Gotcha!" Kirby finally caught Robbie in the master bedroom, just before he could knock on the bathroom door.

"Now, you can wait five more minutes," he reassured the toddler, setting him up on his shoulders to carry him downstairs. "She's needs a little time to herself, too."

Robbie squirmed and protested at first, but finally settled down.

"You're a good boy," Kirby praised him. "Don't ever let any other blockhead tell you differently."

"No!" Robbie exclaimed emphatically.

"Yes, you are."

"No!" But Robbie wasn't looking at him. Kirby could feel him twisting around, and turned in the direction the little boy was pointing.

"What the…?" The door to the attic, normally firmly closed, was completely wide open. Kirby lowered Robbie into his arms as he stared. Perhaps Rob or Toaster had gone up there…but no, he had seen Rob out in the clinic as they were walking back from the park, and Toaster could be heard singing in the guest bedroom.

A sneaking suspicion entered his mind. But it couldn't be any of their friends, he tried to reason as he placed one foot on the steps. Not in the middle of the afternoon, with so many humans about…

The guest bedroom door opened. "Kirby? Is that you?"

"To-aster!" Immediately, Robbie wiggled to get free. Kirby set him on the floor and watched him run to Toaster, arms wide out.

"Hi, Robbie!" She swept him up, covering his face in kisses.

For a moment, Kirby forgot the attic as he watched her, feeling himself bathed in admiration for her enthusiasm. He left the stairs and waited patiently for her to finish with the toddler.

"Hey, Kirby," she exclaimed, noticing him at last and putting Robbie down. He chuckled as she placed her hands on his shoulders and rose high up on her toes to kiss him.

"You okay?" he asked, breaking the kiss to cup her chin and study her face. There was something passionate in her kiss, something he hadn't felt from her before. Her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled in an endearing way. He seized her up in both arms and kissed her soundly.

"And just what are you hiding?" he teased, when they paused for air.

Her eyes widened innocently. "Hiding? I'm not hiding anything!" She rubbed noses with him. "I just…have something to tell you."

"Oh? Is that so?" He humored her. "Just something to tell me."

"Something special." It was true. She seemed ready to burst from whatever it was she concealing.

"What?" he asked.

She drew a breath to speak, but Robbie's squeal from the master bedroom cut her short. "Mommy! Mommy!"

"Darn it," Kirby said, as saw Chris come out with Robbie in her arms, a towel wrapped around her hair. "I tried to stop him."

"Don't worry about it." Chris kissed her son's cheek as he poked her towel. "He's at that stage where he just gets everywhere. And, obviously, you two were busy," she said, knowingly, seeing Toaster in Kirby's embrace.

Kirby cleared his throat, but Toaster simply laughed and kissed him without shame.

He saw Chris shake her head. "Well, don't let me interrupt anything. Just remember what we talked about, Thea? Right? Nothing until after your appointment." She gave a glance Kirby could only interpret as meaningful. He looked at Toaster for a better explanation, but only received that sparkling look as his answer.

"I'll remember. I promise," she reassured Chris.

"Good girl."

"Meet me in the bedroom," she whispered in Kirby's ear, as Chris headed downstairs with Robbie.

"Alright." He didn't see the point to whispering when they had no secrets. "Let me put away the stroller and give Robbie a snack first."

Toaster was gleeful as he set her back on her feet. "Don't take too long." Her hand caressed his chest as she turned back for the bedroom. Kirby had to snap himself together to remind himself that his duties to the McGroartys came first. He wanted nothing better than to follow her into the room and give in to whatever temptation she was offering.

Perhaps it was fate, he realized later, that prevented him from giving into pure instinct. Or perhaps he possessed more common sense than the average vacuum. Whatever it was, today was a day for good judgement, as he realized when he entered the kitchen and found Rob and Chris in muted conversation. It took just one glance for him to see Rob's discomfort and Chris's tenacity, and to realize that it was connected to whatever secret Toaster had to share.

So he was somewhat prepared, as he set out carrot sticks and grapes for Robbie's snack, when Rob sidled up to him after Chris pointedly left the room.

"So, you and Thea have been…getting along lately."

Kirby shrugged it off. "We've always gotten along."

"…Right." Rob scratched at the skin above his cast. "Yeah, I can see that. Um…I just thought you ought to know...Well, Chris actually thought…that is…that we don't really mind you two…together."

Kirby put Robbie's plate on his highchair and crossed his arms, waiting. "We don't mind it either."

"It's just that…" Rob rubbed the back of his head as his eyes darted everywhere, "Chris had a conversation with Thea earlier concerning your…time together…and she was afraid that maybe…you didn't quite understand everything."

"Everything? Everything about what?" Kirby demanded. Where was this going?

"About." Rob hesitated. "S…se…um, birth control."

Kirby wrinkled his nose. "Birth control?"

"Oh, boy." Rob ran a hand over his face. "Chris was right again. You mind if we sit down…?"

Kirby didn't mind it. In fact, he was almost certain he was going to need a chair, too.

* * *

"No!"

"What do you mean 'No'?" Kirby found himself blinking at a bewildered Toaster sometime later.

"I mean NO!" he roared, feeling much like Robbie had earlier in trying to make himself heard. Forgetting to keep his voice down, he paced back and forth in the guest bedroom. He felt like the wool had been snatched from his eyes, just in time. The conversation he had with Rob, awkward and long though it had been had opened everything for him. Humans, their offspring, that wonderful night he and Toaster had spent together… enjoyed together…why, it made him positively ill.

Toaster, on the other hand, glowed with excitement as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. "But, Kirby, isn't it the most wonderful thing you've ever dreamed of! Humans creating their own babies by doing exactly what we've been doing! Together. Making…making love!"

"Making what?"

"Well, that's what Chris called it. What we did together." Toaster had a dreamy look on her face. "Making love."

That wasn't exactly what Rob had called it, but Kirby held his peace. One fight at a time.

"No," he repeated.

"But, don't you understand?" Toaster insisted. "That's what making love is for! Creating, having a baby! That's how Chris and Rob got Robbie! Can you imagine?" She laughed. "What would Blanky say if I told him we could do it, too?"

"Do what?" Kirby stopped pacing to stare at her, feeling his jaw nearly drop.

"Have a baby, of course!" She laughed so hard tears were running down her face. "It's incredible, isn't it?"

Kirby chilled. He found himself staring down at that lovely, laughing vision, and shaking.

"You're insane," he gasped.

"But, Kirby…"

"You're worse than insane!" Kirby grabbed at his head as he lowered himself to the bed, his thoughts going every which way. "We can't!"

"But we could…" Toaster's hand wrapped around his.

"But we shouldn't," he replied, seizing both of her hands and turning to face her. "We don't know what we're doing! At all! This is…this is too much!"

"But…"

"We don't even know how much longer we'll be human," Kirby pressed, grasping for anything at that point.

It worked, though he couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed to see the Toaster's enthusiasm fade.

"Oh. Right." She lowered her gaze to the bed as she thought it over. "I guess we shouldn't really try anything if we…aren't going to stay…"

"That's right." He squeezed her hands.

"I guess that means we shouldn't…make love…anymore either…"

"Well, now, wait a second!" Kirby started. He was starting to lose his mind. "I—I never said we needed to stop. We just have to be careful with what we're doing." He ran his thumb over her hand, marveling again at how much smaller and softer her hands felt. "Rob said Chris was going to get you…control or something?"

"Birth control." Toaster nodded. "She said the gynic…gecolo…doctor would give me some sort of pill that would help. I would just have to remember to take one each time we made love."

"Well, that's what we'll do, then." He pulled her close to him. "We'll be careful until we change back. Agreed?"

She sighed as she put her head against his chest. "Agreed."

He sighed in relief, holding her fast. "Thank you," he whispered, though he couldn't be sure he was thanking her or his lucky stars.

"Humans are more complicated than I thought," he heard her say. He agreed in a grunt, feeling that little more needed to be said. His hands roamed, stroking her hair; just feeling her.

"I'm glad, though. I love feeling you touch me."

"Mmm." He eased back in the bed, bringing her with him. "I love it, too." A surge rose through him. "When is the appointment with the doctor?"

"Tomorrow."

He drew a breath, trying to calm himself. "Well, we can wait another day."

"Kirby?" She pulled away from him, raising herself up on her elbows to look down at him.

"Hm?"

"Do you…do you think we'll feel the same way about each other when we're appliances again?"

It took a moment of staring into her confused, disappointed eyes before her question really sank into him. When it did, he found he had no real answer, because they both knew the true answer perfectly well. He simply stared back, wordless, until she drew away from him and rose from the bed, quietly leaving the room. He didn't hurry after her; she wasn't truly leaving him. She simply needed what he needed at that moment: some time alone to think it over.

Only Kirby wasn't sure what to think anymore. He didn't know how long he lay in bed after she left, staring up at the ceiling. He just keep trying to come to some reasonable conclusion in his mind about their situation, who they were and what they were, and how long it all would really last.

And then he remembered the opened attic door.

Throwing caution to the wind, he rolled out of the bed, ignoring the cringe in his back, and made right for the attic. Once past the door, he found his earlier suspicions confirmed. The lamp, radio, hearing aids, and calculator were gathered in a semi-circle, looking like conspirators united. Even though he knew what the point for the meeting, he couldn't help the bubble of exasperation that burst from inside.

"What do you all think you are doing?" he demanded glaring from one to the other. "At this time of the day? With everyone in the house? What if you were caught up here, huh, and Rob and Chris started asking questions? How's that supposed to help me or Toaster?" He waited, arms crossed for their answers, before realizing in yet another wave of exasperation that they couldn't answer.

"Oh, never mind," he muttered, grunting as he lowered himself before them on one knee. "You're doing your best. That's what Ratso says, anyway. I won't believe it until I see some results." He paused, finding himself staring at the radio's weathered dial. "If you're getting any results, that is…"

They all stayed motionless, featureless, but Kirby had an eerie sense of eyes boring into him, waiting.

"They just want to know what the heck's going on between you and the toaster," Ratso had insisted just two days earlier. "What with that performance between youse guys in the kitchen, and Toaster nearly dying in the living room."

"She wasn't dying," Kirby snapped at him, uneasy with the guilt that crept over him.

"Okay, then Blanky was exaggerating! But what about in the kitchen?" Ratso had eyed him closely, seeming to guess more than he was letting on. "I can't explain anything to them if you don't explain it to me…!"

Kirby had firmly told him to shut it and ended the conversation by storming out. Explain it? What business was it of theirs, anyway? Especially now, considering the trouble he and Toaster had nearly-could still nearly-get themselves into with the whole business.

And now, faced with all of them, even inanimate as they were, he realized that he simply didn't know how to explain. Where did he even start?

"Look, I know you're wondering what happened," he said at last, setting his gaze on the lamp (and almost sensing the stupid look in return). "Whatever you've seen of me and the toaster…I—I don't know what to tell you. These last few weeks…well, they haven't been easy. So, whatever you guys think…whatever you're saying…" His tongue dried as he stared at each of them.

What exactly was he going to say? That he was sorry? That he missed them? That he and Toaster…? He colored.

"Look, I don't actually have to explain myself to any of you," he snapped. "It's none of your business about…whatever you've seen us do. You'd understand it if this had happened to you. But it didn't, so…so don't give either of us any flak. It's more complicated than you think. So the last thing she and I need are for any of you to talk behind our backs! What we need is a solution! We need to change before we do anything—anything—"

Why did the word "unnatural" keep coming up in his mind? Why was it anything they did as humans was considered unnatural when the humans around them found it as natural as nature itself?

"Kirby?" Toaster called. "Are you up there?"

"I'll be down in a minute," Kirby shouted. But he lingered, even as he looked down at the radio's dial.

"I…I…" He remembered the cabin, how the lamp and the radio woke him up every morning with their bickering. He recalled singing in the kitchen when Rob and Chris were away, and…

…Just when had he started calling them Rob and Chris…?

"Damn natural," he growled. "Just—just hurry up and figure this out, before anything else happens!" he added, as a door opened downstairs.

"Find a way to change us back," he said again, softer this time. "Please. Before anything else starts to feel natural."

Then he had gone downstairs, leaving the attic door open just enough for them to make their exit, and found Toaster waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes watching him hopefully and regretfully.

"Kirby," she said, holding out both her hands in peace as he came down, "I just wanted to say—"

He didn't let her say it. He clasped her face in his hands and kissed her.

It was the most natural feeling in the world.

* * *

They said nothing else after that about feelings and changes. Toaster realized that night as Kirby slept beside her that they really had nothing more to say. Making love had been wonderful, incredible, but it was a feeling they would never have when they were appliances again.

So, why talk any further about it? Why practice it any further?

Toaster actually wondered if Kirby would even sleep in the bed with her, now that they realized what they risked by being so close to each other. She could see him struggling with it all through dinner, all through the evening until bedtime came. She'd left him on the couch as she headed for bed, trying hard not to pressure him, not to pressure herself as she sat on the bed and willed herself to stay in control.

But then he'd opened the door, and she'd made room for him in the bed. So they both agreed, in silence, that they couldn't avoid taking risks. They simply would have to be prepared for what came and accept the risks that followed with it.

As humans, they couldn't do anything else.

Going with Chris to the gynecologist the next day, Toaster had to wonder if sex was truly worth all the fuss humans made of it anyway. She was asked to undress, lie on cold, crinkling paper with her legs stretched apart, and stay still as an uninterested stranger scrutinized those places only Kirby had really seen. Even with Chris sitting beside her, holding her hand and telling it wasn't so bad, Toaster wondered why humans even bothered in the first place.

The questions didn't make much sense either.

When had she first started menstruating?

"…Four days ago?" she ventured. Both Chris and the doctor thought she was being coy and had brushed it off.

How long had she been sexually active?

"What?"

How long had she been sexually active…?

"Have you ever loved anyone like you loved John?" Chris interrupted the doctor.

"Oh. No."

First time.

"Vasovagal syncope," the doctor announced, when the questions ran out. Something to do with a nerve in her back and a sensitivity to pain. That was all Toaster understood. That, and the pamphlets on sex the doctor gave her to read (and Chris hinted that Kirby might like to see them as well). She'd was also prescribed pain pills and given tips on relaxation techniques.

"So, it won't be like that every time," she mused to herself. It was different for everyone. In some ways knowing that didn't help…in others, it made sense.

Not everything was the same.

And then, of course, there was the birth control.

Toaster clutched the little container of pills in her hand all through the bus ride home, afraid to let Chris even put them in her purse. They were a lifeline; a chance for both her and Kirby.

To do what? Her mind snapped at her, as tired and sore as her body and worried about things she didn't understand. So you can and Kirby can keep doing something that won't matter anyway?

"It matters now," she whispered.

So?

"So when I'm with him I don't feel so lonely," Toaster tried to explain.

Is that any excuse?

"No…but what else can I do? We've got to find a way to be together, or we may not get through this at all. Do you want to go back to feeling like nothing?"

Her mind was too tired to match an argument like that one. So when she walked through the door of the McGroarty house and found Kirby waiting for her, she simply opened her hands and showed him the small container.

He had shared a sober glance with her- as confused and uncertain as she believed her face must have looked. Then, ignoring everything else in the routine they'd established, he taken her hands and led her up the stairs to what had become their bedroom.

And suddenly sex was not as complicated as they had thought.


	9. Time Stands Still

Chapter 9: Time Stands Still in the Country

Something in the early morning hours roused Toaster from her deep sleep; something beckoning to her sweetly. Ignoring the form of the weary man beside her, she rose from the bed and moved languidly along the floor, reaching for the door.

She opened it to a wide meadow decked out in lilies and daisies, the sun caressing each one with its wide rays. Animals leaped about and played, hardly seeming to notice her as she walked amongst them.

"Toaster." She smiled at the sound of her name, and turned to see Blanky hugging up little mice. Radio and Lampy danced nearby with a family of squirrels. But where was Kirby…?

There he was, still by the rolling chair. Robbie was on his shoulders as he knelt down by the battery, his hands moving clumsily. His mouth moved, and though she couldn't hear him, she knew he was muttering about how low it was and how far they still had to go to find Rob.

 _Master. Not Rob. Master._

A chill blew. She hugged herself as a shadow fell, and looked up to see if it was raining. It wouldn't harm her if she wasn't plugged in to the battery, she told herself. It wouldn't harm her if she stayed unplugged…

"But you are unplugged," the voice called again, soft and mournful.

Then Toaster was surrounded by thick bushes, and she could see that the shade came from an oak tree far off by itself.

There, just at her feet, was a single, wilting lily.

"I remember," Toaster said, kneeling and holding out her hands to cup it. "I remember you here by yourself. You looked at me and thought I was another flower."

"But I can't see myself now," the lily said, dying before Toaster's eyes. "There's no reflection in you anymore. Just time and death. Time and death." The last petal fell, crumpling to dust in Toaster's hands.

 _Time and death…_

As the dream faded, Toaster stirred to find herself lying on her back, Kirby's asleep on top of her. His head rested against her bosom, and his arms were wrapped loosely around her; the exact same position he had been in when he collapsed on top of her. Contentedly, she ran her fingers through his hair, feeling his chest rise and fall against her.

The dream pounded through her consciousness, but by the time Kirby woke, ready to have another go with her, it was completely forgotten.

* * *

After a brief morning treating a sneezing ferret, Toaster helped Rob lock up the clinic so he could be on his way to the bus stop. The time had finally come for Rob's cast to come off, and he couldn't have been happier about it.

"Off and good riddance!" Rob explained, livelier than Toaster had seen him in a long time. "Goodbye to bad rubbish!"

"So much for never throwing anything away!" Toaster giggled.

"I never said I was a saint," Rob informed her without remorse. "Even I know some things can't be saved!" He whistled some tune as they made their way back to the house, pausing briefly outside the back door to take Toaster by the hand and twirl her around.

"Better knock it off before you break your other arm!" she warned him through her laughter.

"I'll never break another bone for as long as I live," he protested.

Per their arrangement, Chris was leaving work to meet him at the hospital. Once the appointment was over, the two would be meeting her coworker to purchase the van. It had been well used, but even Chris agreed that it was just what their family needed just then.

"It's all working out," Rob kept saying as he got himself ready for the appointment. "It's all working out."

As happy as she was for him, Toaster couldn't help casting looks to the junk drawer. It wasn't hard to see that Kirby was doing the same.

When Rob was ready, Toaster and Kirby saw him off to the bus stop, waving to him from the porch. Little Robbie leaned over the porch railing, chirping, "Bye! Bye! Bye!" until Rob was well out of sight.

"What now?" Toaster asked, as Kirby put Robbie up on his shoulders.

"Whadya mean what now?" Kirby winced as the toddler tugged his hair.

"We have the house to ourselves!" Toaster said. "Shouldn't we do something?"

Kirby cocked an eye at her. "You mean, shouldn't we _experience_ something?"

She could see his amusement. "Well, shouldn't we?"

"Depends on what you have in mind."

"I don't know. We could go to the pond…we could climb trees…" None of that appeared to interest Kirby. She wracked her mind. "We could make something…"

"We could cook something," Kirby suddenly suggested, sounding nonchalant.

"Cook something?" Toaster couldn't believe it. "You mean, you and me?"

"Why not? There's still recipes I haven't tried." He kissed her hand. "Got any suggestions?"

"Just one." Toaster knew exactly what she wanted to make

While Robbie chimed in from his highchair, Kirby helped her measure and stir pancake batter, and dip spoonful after spoonful onto an evenly greased pan. Toaster's heart soared as she watched the golden batter bubble and brown. Kirby's hands guided hers as he directed her to, slowly, test each one with a spatula. She concentrated as hard as she could, willing herself to get them right this time.

Kirby made concentrating difficult, however, as he pressed himself firmly against her back and massaged her hips.

"Kirby, don't!" she begged when he sucked her neck. "I'm going to burn them again!"

"I still can't believe you burned them the first time." He chuckled into her hair. "You were a toaster!"

Toaster scowled at him. "Toast and pancakes are entirely different."

"You're telling me."

"How about you both cut it out?" Ratso grumbled from nearby. "You're making me sick!"

"In that case," Toaster replied, sweetly, "no pancakes for you."

"Too rough on a weak stomach," Kirby agreed.

"Oh, brother! Give a rat a break!" He dove under his newspaper clippings, leaving the two laughing. "Listen, when you two stop playing lovey-dovey, you think you can spare a moment?"

"Why? Is something wrong?" Toaster proudly lifted each golden cake to the platter Kirby held out for her.

"Not really. The hearing aids have a theory…"

"Really?" Kirby stopped short of putting the platter on the table. "What did they say?"

Sheepishly, Ratso held out his hands. "I didn't really catch all of it. Something about cells and DNA regenerates and…" He trailed off at her look. "Well, I'm not stupid! It's just not my forte."

"Some messenger you are," Kirby retorted.

"Look, I'm only trying to help youse out." Ratso sullenly crossed his arms and turned his back on them. "I'll quit passing messages, and then we'll see whose complaining."

"Never mind, Ratso." Toaster tried to soothe him. "We appreciate everything you've done for us. We never would have been able to do this without you. Right, Kirby?"

Kirby snorted.

"Please keep going."

"Fine." Ratso scratched at his ear as he turned around again, but even that gesture didn't hide his embarrassment from the praise. "Anyways, like I was saying, they finally think they got something. But they need more samples from you to test it out."

"More hair?"

"More like spit, I think. They said to use a cotton swab on your cheek. " Ratso hooked a finger on the inside of his cheek to demonstrate. "End swick it ento a contawner."

"When?"

Ratso popped his finger out "Oh, in a couple years. You know, whenever you're ready to quit playing house together."

"Knock it off," Kirby demanded, cutting Robbie's pancakes.

"Hey, Toaster's the one acting dumb. You want to get this over with, don't you?"

"Of course, we do!" Kirby thundered. He hesitated though, looking at Toaster. "But, uh, where do we get the cotton swabs?

"From the clinic," Toaster said, before Ratso could answer. "Rob keeps an extra key in his desk. I'll get it." Kirby's hand on her arm stopped her.

"After breakfast," he insisted, handing her a plate piled with pancakes dripping syrup and butter.

Toaster smiled, and joined him at the table.

* * *

While Robbie ran about in the waiting room, Kirby sat on Rob's swivel chair in the surgery. He glanced around nervously, taking in the sight of surgery tools, well-worn veterinary textbooks, and various other such equipment that signaled a well- kept clinic. He'd only been out there once since it had been established, but could barely recall any details worth remembering. It had just been another human place where he had no real purpose. Even now, he couldn't help feeling like an intruder.

It was a marvel, then to watch Toaster move so purposefully around the room, selecting drawers and cabinets with a familiar precision.

"So," he said, wondering how she could be so at ease, "This is where you spend your time."

"Mm hm." Toaster set small sample containers on the counter beside him.

"You sure know your way around." He cautiously touched a container of gloves. "Do you actually have to use all these things?"

"Sometimes. I haven't used everything just yet, but Rob promised to show me. He's a good teacher." She swabbed the inside of her cheek with a cotton swab and stuck the sample deftly into one of the container. "Okay, your turn." She stood in front of him with a second cotton swab.

"How are we going to explain the stuff missing?" Kirby asked, shying away.

"He won't notice. He buys everything in bulk. Now, come on. It won't hurt." Toaster held his chin firmly. Kirby relented to having his cheek swabbed.

"Think it will be enough?" he asked, dubious eyeing the sample as she placed it in a container. It seemed inadequate to him.

She paused, considering. "I suppose." Her gaze drifted to a drawer. "But better safe than sorry, right?" As Kirby watched, she pulled out what looked like a microscope slide and a small, sharp needle.

Kirby sucked in a breath as she aimed the needle at her middle finger. "You're not going to do that on yourself, are you?"

"Just my finger. It'll be quick."

"You'll hurt yourself," he protested, rising from the seat.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing." Without another word, she pricked her finger. Kirby's stomach turned over as a dot of blood bubbled up. She carefully smeared it on the slide.

"There! That should be plenty for them to work with." She shot a glance at him. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Of course," he muttered, trying to hide his nausea. "You don't…you don't think they'll want my blood, too?"

Toaster patted his leg as he put the samples into a plastic bag. "I think they'll get by with mine.

"Thank goodness." Even as the nausea passed, he couldn't help feeling proud of Toaster's confidence. She was so at ease in the clinic, so certain of herself and everything else. Perhaps she was right in this notion of experiences…

"Pawk!" Kirby's thoughts were interrupted by Robbie bounding into the surgery and throwing his arms around Kirby's leg. "Pawk! Pawk! Pwease?" Robbie's blue eyes shone.

"That's right." Kirby patted his head. "We better get going." He looked up at the Toaster, though, as a new thought entered his mind.

"Don't worry about me," Toaster quickly said, reading his dubiousness. "I'll go give these samples to Ratso, and then I'm coming straight back out here to clean up. I promised Rob I'd have the units scrubbed down before he got back."

"Right now?" Kirby eyed her, as he lingered to let her lock up behind them.

"Better sooner than later." She brushed hair behind her ear. "Why?"

"Nothing." Kirby cleared his throat. "I just thought, maybe, you'd like to come to the park."

Toaster's eyes lit up. "Really? You really want me to come?"

"Yes, well, why not?" Kirby had to slow his pace for Toaster to keep up with him. "You wanted to do something different. Going to the park would be a change." He cleared his throat to keep the smile from crossing his face. "On second thought, you might be too busy for a new experience, what with cleaning the clinic and sitting in the house all by yourself all afternoon…"

"Kirby." Toaster laughed. "Are you teasing me?"

"…A bit." He grinned down at her as he held the door open.

"I'd love to come! Just let me give these to Ratso!" She hurried inside. He heard her speaking in a hurried tone to Ratso as he readied Robbie's stroller.

"Okay." Toaster was breathless as she came back. Her hands brushed the curls from her forehead. "Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just a smile."

"Done!" A cheery one was already residing on her face. "Let's go!"

An unusual breeze caught them as they walked down the road. Kirby, wondering when August had gotten so chilly, remembered that September was already around the corner. When had time gone by so fast? Robbie bounced with glee in his stroller, urging Kirby on with his shouts. Toaster's excitement matched his, with the way she bounced at Kirby's side. Kirby found himself thoroughly enjoying the walk more than he ever had.

Then, the park came into view, and with it the usual mothers and babysitters who normally swarmed with their broods. Kirby's shoulders stiffened as familiar heads swung in his direction, and felt his stomach doing loops as eyes darted to Toaster at his side, hugging his arm.

Oh, boy…Why hadn't he thought of that before? He hesitated, just at the edge of the curb, looking down uncertainly at Toaster. Of course the mothers would be nosy. How could he have forgotten that? Toaster, oblivious to the danger before her, returned his look with a quizzical one.

"Are those your friends?" she asked, pointing towards them.

"That's them, alright." Although he was starting to wonder if he could actually count them as friends.

"They look wonderful!" Toaster exclaimed. She shielded her eyes in the sun. "Which one is Mary?"

"The one with the baby." And the too-excited look on her face. Kirby had half a mind to turn tail and flee, but the ladies were already making a beeline in their direction.

"Hey, big fella! You're here early!" Colette called through cupped hands as they approached.

Kirby only nodded as he unbuckled Robbie from the stroller and let him tumble across the wood clippings to the slide.

"Early morning. Not a lot of work," he mumbled, focused on untangling the seatbelt straps

"And you brought a friend!" Judy's voice dripped with honey above his head.

"John, sweetie, aren't you going to introduce us?" Mary asked.

Kirby straightened up from the stroller, looking to find all three scrutinizing a beaming Toaster. Before he could say anything (or even think of anything to say), Toaster flung both arms around Mary and baby Sam, "Hello, Mary! It's so nice to finally meet you!"

"Finally?" Mary gathered herself fast and freed an arm to embrace Toaster.

"Kirby has told me everything about you!" Toaster explained.

"Oh, he has, has?" Kirby winced as Mary's eyebrows shot up and she cast an amused look. "Names, description and everything, huh? Well, well, well." And, uh, what's your name, dear?"

"I'm Toa…Thea." Kirby sighed at how quickly Toaster caught herself. He still found it difficult to respond to being called John.

"Thea. What a unique name." Judy seized Toaster's hand and pumped it with all her might. "Judy. It's funny, but John's never mentioned you."

"He hasn't?" Toaster looked at him curiously. Kirby cursed inwardly as he took his time straightening up from the stroller.

"I just never got around to it, that's all," he muttered.

"Oh, sure." Mary nodded her head in mock agreement. "I'm sure, given the proper amount of time…"

"And encouragement!" Colette elbowed him pointedly.

"…He would have mentioned his lovely lady friend to us. Eventually."

"So." Judy butted in. "Tell us about yourself, Thea! Do you live nearby?"

"Oh, yes! Kirby and I live in the McGroarty house just down the road."

Judy's eyes seemed to pop out of her head. "So you two _live_ together?"

"My, my, my." Mary's smile was much too big.

Kirby's ears inflamed under the teasing, causing their laughter to peal. Even Toaster joined in, though she didn't seem to grasp what so funny. As the pack swept Toaster off to one of the benches, asking question after question, he could only follow along helpless, wondering what in goodness' name there was to be embarrassed about. Robbie called out from the swings, giving Kirby just the escape he needed. As he pushed Robbie's swing back and forth, he glanced back to be sure Toaster was fine.

There she sat, in the midst of the group, beaming and friendly; blissfully untouched by their teasing questions. At some point, she said something to Colette which sent them all into laughing fits.

"John, your girlfriend is a sweetheart!" Mary exclaimed, bringing Sam to the baby swings when he fussed. "Seriously, why didn't you ever mention her before, you Casanova?"

 _Girlfriend._ "Oh, I don't know," he muttered, suddenly struck by the word. Girlfriend? Chris had been Rob's girlfriend…some time ago, anyway. He knew it meant closeness, relationship that no one else shared. He studied Toaster, watching the way she tilted her head to one side and flung it back when she laughed. A girlfriend.

His girlfriend?

"Don't be so embarrassed! We're just giving you a hard time." Mary rested her hand on his shoulder. "We're happy for you!"

"You are?"

"Not everyone is lucky enough to find someone. And you have definitely got a keeper." Mary's eyes sparkled. "I don't think I've ever seen you look so smitten before."

That startled Kirby. Did he look at Toaster differently?

Toaster was glowing by the time they left the park.

"It was wonderful!" she exclaimed, when they returned to the house an hour later. "They were wonderful!"

"Yeah, well, they're always loud," Kirby remarked, as she held open the front door for him.

"They sure liked you."

"Yeah, well." He busied himself with putting away the stroller. "They've got good taste." Mary's comments remark to himself, though it still played over and over each time he looked at Toaster. "They liked you, too," he added, gruffly.

"They did?" Toaster flushed with pleasure. "I'm so glad!"

"So am I," he added quietly to himself. He recalled the praises from the women at the park, and the way Toaster's eyes had shined when they looked up at him. He tried to block back the pleasure and concentrate on spot cleaning, but somehow he couldn't help basking in the approval.

"Hey, press that button," he said, noting the flashing light on the answering machine.

"Please and thank you." Toaster teased as she pushed the button. "I'll be back down," she added, heading upstairs as the answering machine clicked.

"Hey, Thea, John. It's Rob. Just wanted to let you know that the appointment is over, and my arm is as good as new."

"Almost," Chris chimed in, her voice from a distance.

"Anyway, we're going to have lunch in town before we pick up the van, but we should be back in time for dinner. We'll see you later."

Kirby glanced at the clock on the stove as the message ended, considering the time. A little more time to themselves? Perhaps he could persuade Toaster to put off the clinic a little while longer and practice more cooking.

"What would she like?' he mused, taking up the cook book. Chris had bought some salmon for him to try, as he was studying the fish section of the book. It was too heavy for lunch, but a little early dinner preparation wouldn't hurt anyone.

He swung to the stairwell, preparing to call up at her, when the machine clicked three more times.

"Hiya, fellas." He caught his breath at the familiar voice. He turned, half expecting to find the dial face right behind him. "Long time no talk. Things being what they are, we thought we'd try a direct approach."

"Say hi for me!" Lampy's voice butted in.

"Hi, Toaster! Hi, Kirby!" a tiny voice piped up.

"Don't push me, you guys!" Radio fought. "Anyway, we just wanted to say hold on tight. Looks like the junk drawer guys might be on to something at last! Keep your seat belts buckled!"

"Don't let Toaster get hurt again!" Lampy interrupted.

The machine clicked off, but the voices rang in Kirby's ears. Odd how nostalgic he become, remembering. Who knew that he would miss those blockheads so much?

Toaster thundered down the stairs.

"Watch it!" he warned, as she landed on the last step and all but leaped at him. He caught her, and found himself swinging her around to keep from losing his balance.

"Who was on the phone?" she asked.

"Rob," he said, easily enough. "They won't be back until dinner."

"Oh? Was that it? I thought I heard two messages."

"I was going to salmon cakes for dinner. You want to help?" He interrupted her reply with a kiss, as he carried her into the kitchen.

He didn't do anything wrong, after all. They hadn't found anything. There was no reason to tell her that their friends still had nothing to offer them.

* * *

Toaster mused over the park as she cleaned up the clinic. It surprised her that Kirby, grumpy and loner as he had been, had made friends in such a short time. Perhaps that was part of being human, though; neither could avoid contact with anyone.

She was such an old hand at the work that she barely had to refer to Rob's chart. She had memorized the place not simply from familiarity, but affection as well.

She ran the dust rag over the tops of the books, then followed with a finger. Cautiously, she tipped the book out and opened it to a random page. Toaster paused to study the figure the offered on the next page. Wouldn't Rob be pleased to find that she knew so much? Then, when she was a toaster again…

 _Time and death._ She stopped as the words crossed her mind. Where had those come from?

Slowly, she pushed the book back into its place and turned back to her task, almost regretfully. What was the point of learning veterinary medicine? She wasn't going to need it when she became a toaster again. If the hearing aids finally had a theory, then there wasn't much reason to read any further.

 _Time and death._

She carried that ominous feeling into the house, only to be met by an even heavier sensation. Robbie was eating his strawberries and cherry tomatoes with gusto, ignorant of the way the former vacuum leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

Ratso looked deeply uncomfortable as he clasped the bars of his unit with both hands.

"What's wrong?" she asked, glancing from one to another.

"They got the test results back," Ratso said.

"Already?" Toaster's breath caught, and her heart started an odd thud that pounded through her ears.

"They got in touch with Wittengenstein while youse guys were out. Apparently, their theory…well, guess they ain't so smart after all."

"Oh?" Toaster couldn't tell if that was bad news or good news. "What did he say?" She posed the question to Ratso, but watched Kirby's face for his reaction. The lines under his eyes had grown deeper, making him look weary.

"…That it's impossible," Ratso announced.

"What?"

Kirby's expression didn't change.

"That's it?" Toaster blinked down at Ratso. "That's all he said?"

Ratso scratched his ear nervously. "No, that ain't all he said. It's just that…whatever changed you was a once in a million accident. There's no way you could go from being appliances to being human in a split second, just like that."

"So? We knew that!"

"And there's no way to reverse a once in a million accident either." Kirby's voice was almost too soft for her to catch. She leaned into him, putting a hand to his shoulder.

"You mean…"

"There is no way to change back." Though he averted his gaze, she could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes. "We're just stuck like this."

Instinctively, she took his arm. Without looking at her, he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. Toaster had the odd sensation as she rubbed his back that she was holding him up in more ways than one.

No more bread. No more counters. No more Radio, or Lampy, or Ratso. Her own eyes began to fill.

"I'm real sorry, fellas," she heard Ratso apologize.

"It's not your fault," she replied, though her own words sounded too flat to be sincere. And yet, even as her heart bled, a small spark kindled; a tiny feeling that leaped with the great opportunity.

"No more decisions! No more waiting!" It seemed to call, like a siren luring her to its depths. "You can do what you want to! You can be what you want!"

The timer dinged, calling attention to a preheated oven. Robbie demanded to be let down from his highchair. Toaster felt Kirby rouse, and she met his eyes as he straightened up slowly.

"We'll be alright," she reassured him.

He nodded wordlessly, rubbing her shoulder as he turned his attention to the stove.

"We'll be alright," she repeated to Ratso, finding more courage in the words the second time. "Tell the others-Radio, Blanky, Lampy-tell them…we'll be alright."

"You sure, slot head?" Ratso watched her closely.

"We'll be alright." She abruptly turned away from Ratso and went to help Kirby finish preparations. They worked silently together, as much in unison as indifferent. At some point, Kirby bent over the sink, one hand covering his eyes.

On seeing him, Toaster too sank into a chair to sob her confusion away.

* * *

By the time Rob and Chris returned, both former appliances had regained composure. They still hadn't found the strength to talk to each other; their conversation was limited to comments about dinner and making sure Robbie didn't wander from sight. But somehow in the flurry of planning of simmering rice and bubbling broccoli, Toaster found the comfort she needed. Kirby, too, as he pulled the salmon cakes from the oven and presented to her, shyly, the cherry pie he had prepped.

"Kitchen!" Toaster replied to Rob's call, kissing Kirby's cheek as he bent to place the pie in the oven.

"Free at last, free at last!" Rob sighed, flexing his right arm, as they entered the kitchen.

"Thank God Almighty!" Chris chimed in, following behind.

"It looks as good as new!" Toaster managed to sound cheerful as Rob demonstrated his mobility by hugging her with the arm.

Chris snorted. "It's anything but!"

"I still have to have physical therapy," Rob explained, "But, hey, any progress is good progress! I refuse to let anything get me down!"

"I say a celebration is in order!" Chris announced. She showered Robbie with kisses. "Couples movie night after dinner!" She winked at Toaster. "Sound good?"

"What's the movie?" Rob looked pensive. "Please don't say Citizen Kane. I don't think I could handle that one tonight." He pouted, drawing exaggerated attention to his arm.

"Oh, you big baby." Chris threw her arms around his neck. "Trust me, I'll never choose Citizen Kane as long as I live! I got enough of that one in college!" She placed a big kiss on Rob's cheek. "How's Casablanca sound?"

Toaster couldn't help a chuckle as Rob dramatically cocked his head to one side and rubbed his chin. "Hm, complicated romantic triangle in an exotic location during a world changing war?"

"Complete with a young Belgian actress and street-wise Humphrey Bogart," Chris teased.

"I'm in." Rob looked over at Toaster and Kirby. "What do you say? Join us?"

Kirby had been silent throughout the entire exchange. The tears had disappeared, but there was still a melancholy that surrounded him.

Toaster took his hand, drawing his eyes to her.

"That sounds like a good idea," she said, softly, watching him. "We could use a celebration."

Kirby regarded her quietly for a minute. Then, at last, a smile crept over his face.

* * *

 _Casablanca_ was a welcome distraction. Each couple sat watching, resting easily as the movie washed over them, plates stained with the remains of cherry pie ignored on the coffee table.

Toaster sat on Kirby's lap, her legs dangling over the armchair they sat in, and her head resting against his shoulder; the same position she'd been in since the start of the movie. In an odd moment of playfulness, Kirby had seized her without a word as she walk part him. Startled, she had laughed, and tried to get free, but he had held her fast until she had relented.

On the couch beside them, Rob and Chris cozied up to each other. Toaster shot them a glance now and then, pleased to see them so content, with Rob's free arm holding Chris as tightly as he could.

"Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow…" Humphrey Bogart said in that deep voice of his. Toaster felt Kirby stroke her hair as Bogey cupped Ingrid Bergman's chin.

"And to think, that hunk was only cast as a gangster in his early films." Chris sighed. "Just goes to show you that you can't take anyone for granted."

Toaster smiled her sentiments against Kirby's neck.

"An American classic," Rob announced to no one in particular as the credits rolled. "Love, loss, and what Ingrid Bergman wore!"

"Don't be so cynical." Chris playfully swatted his leg. "You love it, and you know it!"

"Well, I love something in common with it." Rob grinned and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "What did you guys think?"

"I liked it," Toaster announced, as Kirby grunted his own approval. They'd see it before, during Rob's college days, but somehow it carried a new weight for Toaster. Was it just the romance? Or was the acceptance of things past that couldn't be changed?

"I just don't understand why she had to choose between them," Toaster stated. "If she loved both of them, why couldn't they all stay together?" She regarded the uncertain looks Chris and Rob sent her way. "If you love someone, you should do everything you can to keep them. Shouldn't you?"

"It's, um…" Rob shifted on the couch as he searched for the right words. "It's sort of more complicated than that…"

"I don't see why she wanted either," Kirby grumbled. "That Rick fellow was just a sourpuss, and I'm pretty sure Laszlo was up to something."

"Sure he was!" Toaster tilted her head back to look at him. "He was trying to stop a war!"

"Yeah, but what wasn't he telling her?" Kirby questioned. He shook his head. "No one is ever that perfect unless they have something to hide!"

"Oh, that's just like a man." Chris rolled her eyes. "Why on earth do you have to think the worse of other guys if they act like decent people?"

"Well, to be fair, it was World War II," Rob explained. He grinned nervously as Chris shot him a look. "You don't spend that much time in hiding and have nothing worth hiding."

"War plans, yeah. But love is different."

"It couldn't have been that different." Kirby seemed to be mulling it over. Toaster took the opportunity to slip off his lap. "She lied to him. He lied to her. It seems to me every blasted character in there spent the entire movie lying."

"Wow." Rob appeared to take that in. "You know, I never saw it that way before."

"But, they all just wanted what was best for each other." Toaster just couldn't let the fight go. "She just wanted to keep both of them safe, and they just wanted her to be happy. Doesn't that mean something?"

"What? That they couldn't trust each other?" Kirby blinked at her, his confusion evident. "Are you telling me that's all love is? Making everything worse by trying to make it all better?"

"I get your point, John, but I think you're missing the overall picture." Chris tapped the remote as the video screen turned flashed snow. "Obviously, love is complicated in any situation, no matter who you are. At least, that's what our sophomore lit teacher told us."

"But couldn't they have all worked it out? Eventually?" Toaster asked.

"Maybe…but I don't think they would all have been very happy together," Rob added. "Three's sort of a crowd. Especially in relationships."

"And speaking of thirds," Chris announced, as Robbie called out from upstairs.

"I'll check on him," Kirby offered, rising. Toaster hugged her knees to her chest, considering the tape as Chris put it away. "If someone'll get those pie plates."

"I'll take them," Toaster offered as Rob started to his feet.

"Don't have to tell me twice!" he replied, stretching his arms over his head as he leaned back into the couch.

"I vote that tomorrow we watch something less complicated," Chris said, following Toaster into the kitchen. "How about Witches of Eastwick? It has a love triangle I bet you'd like."

Toaster smiled and returned the hip bump Chris gave her.

"This has been a good night. Rob and I haven't watched a good classic since…" She trailed off, turning on the water to wash the plates. "I guess it's been awhile," she added with a wry laugh.

"Casablanca is a good film," Toaster agreed. She took a towel from the drawer and dried the dishes Chris handed her. "I just don't understand why love has to be so complicated."

"Sweet mystery of life. You have to choose between people sometimes."

"Did you ever have to choose?" Toaster asked, looking towards the junk drawer.

"You mean between someone else and Rob? Thank goodness, no! It was always Rob, right from the moment he dropped lemon sherbet down his shirt in tenth grade." Chris shook her head, as some fond memory played out in her head. "You should have seen the way his ears turned red when I got those paper towels and tried to clean him off."

Toaster found it easy to picture the red-head in that scenario.

"I never actually thought we'd end up together." Chris sobered, pausing to look down at the suds running down the drain. "Much less get stuck in the situation we've had."

"Didn't it feel right when you made love?

Chris shot her a wry grin. "Not everyone works as fast you and John. I knew Rob for three years before he even tried to kiss me."

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong, it was worth the wait," Chris continued, rinsing out the popcorn bowl before handing it to her. "But Rob always takes his time."

"How did you know it was right, then?" Toaster held a glass up to the light, watching her reflection distort. "How did you know you loved Rob, honestly and truly, instead of someone else?"

"I didn't. Not until I got to know him. We had to, you know, cultivate the relationship."

"Cultivate," Toaster mused, setting the glass to one side. "Like growing a plant."

"Yeah, that's right." Chris shut off the water and picked up a hand towel to dry her hands. "Some things just can't be rushed. I mean, the first time Rob and I made love, we almost…" Chris trailed off, and suddenly stared down at the dishtowel in her hands.

Alarmed, Toaster put a hand on her shoulder. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Chris was shaking. "Sorry, I just…remembered something. Um…" She hung the towel back up, missing the hook three times before she got it to stick. "Thea, I have to run upstairs. There's something I need to…calculate…" She was out of the kitchen before Toaster could blink.

* * *

Kirby was lying back on their bed when she returned to the room, pensively staring up at the ceiling. He lay there without a word as she changed her clothes and brushed her hair.

"Kirby?" she finally asked when she had finished counting. "Are you okay? Are you still upset about earlier?" she ventured, holding her breath.

"What?" He finally stirred from his thoughts. "You mean Ratso's news? No." He shook his head. "I-I wasn't thinking about that."

"Oh." That was a surprise to her. "Well, didn't you like the movie?"

Kirby wouldn't meet her eyes. "Of course, I liked the movie," he grumbled. "It's no Phantom of the Opera, but its fine."

Toaster couldn't help grinning, remembering how he had often belted out "Past the Point of No Return" as a vaccuum. She climbed up on the bed beside him.

"Then, what are you thinking about?"

"Well…" He fidgeted. "What would you say if we didn't watch a movie with Chris and Rob next Saturday?"

"Huh? Why not? You don't want to see the Witches of Eastwick?"

"It's not the movie." He wasn't exactly stuttering. "Tonight was…pleasant… but I've been thinking…maybe we haven't been taking this seriously enough."

"What do you mean?"

Kirby's brows knit together. "Maybe…maybe we've been going about this human thing the wrong way. We've been acting like fools, doing things because we assumed we wouldn't be able to do them ever again. And now that…we can't…Well, maybe we should try it differently."

Toaster cuddled against his inviting arm. "Like what?"

"Spend some more time together, of course."

"But we have been spending more time together," Toaster reminded him fondly, as he ran a hand over her knee.

"So we do something different. Like…Like Rick and Ilsa spending time together. Do something to cultivate the relationship."

"Cultivate?" Toaster repeated, raising her head to look at him. "That's what Chris said…Hey, were you eavesdropping?"

His flush was answer enough. "Look, do you want to spend time with me or not?"

"Of course, I do!" Toaster kissed his cheek. "What should we do?"

He blinked at her, suddenly baffled.

"Why I—I don't know," he exclaimed. "I hadn't thought that far. Maybe Rob has some ideas…" His brows crinkled. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Nope." A spirit of mischief tickled her, and she grinned at him. "None at all. So, how about you make the plans, and tell me how the adventure will go?"

The wrinkles under his eyes deepened for a moment, then softened. "Alright. I'll ask Rob tomorrow. Just be prepared for…for anything."

"Agreed!" Toaster kissed him, finding herself wrapped up in his arms as they commenced with their night.

* * *

Kirby clutched the paper ticket in his hand, staring nervously from it to the crowd stretched before him. Rob had not only offered suggestions, he'd helped Kirby make the plans. Dinner at a local restaurant and a walk in the town's park, where an orchestra often played on the weekends. It sounded pleasant enough. But Kirby kept trying to get inside the Toaster's head. Would she enjoy it?

Kirby had nearly forgotten, just as he did time after time, that Toaster spent little time outside in the world. She'd been ordered especially for the cabin, arriving directly from the factory. Their journey to find the master had been the first time she'd ever been out into the world, and they'd been so focused on their destination they hadn't spent time enjoying the world around them.

Now, as they sat on the bus, Kirby found his own excitement aroused by her enthusiasm. Every sign, every stop, every face was a complete wonder for her, and she drank it all. In fact, he spent most of the bus ride watching her, marveling at the pretty sight she made in her fresh peach sleeveless dress with a lacy hem, with a magenta cardigan that matched the blush in her cheeks. Her legs were even smooth, something which baffled him.

"Chris taught me how to shave them," Toaster told him, twirling in her dress. "And I only nicked myself twice with the razor!"

He had even tried something new himself that afternoon. He wasn't even sure when the idea had occurred to him, or how the idea occurred to him. But a simple query to Rob that morning had not only given him the answer he needed, but the tools as well.

"Kirby!" Toaster had exclaimed when he emerged from the bathroom. "You shaved your mustache!"

Kirby couldn't quite meet her eyes as he brushed a hand over his smooth upper lip. "Of course, I did. What…what do you think?"

Having her pressed close against, holding his shoulder for support as she stood on her tiptoes nearly undid him. "I…I like it!"

A perfect start to their venture, he thought.

The sight of the restaurant, when they finally reached it, unnerved him with its finery. The hustle and bustle inside didn't help much either. A tingling down his spine recalled that old appliance code, and only a firm reminder that he was part of the human world now kept him from retreating. Toaster clinging to his arm and excitedly pointing out the décor comforted him as well.

Their number was soon called, and they were seated at one of the middle tables.

"Look at all this!" Toaster exclaimed, reading through the menu and pointing at various meals and their names. "What's Confit de canard?"

"Preserved duck," Kirby responded, quickly recalling the French cookbook Chris had given him.

"Why don't they just call it preserved duck?"

"Got me. Nothing humans do makes sense." He followed the menu at a more leisurely pace, considering each and every offering with calculating care.

"Have you decided?" The waiter was classy and unmoving, even when Toaster smiled at him.

"Hmm, almost." Kirby pointed to the salmon on the back of the menu. "Do you cook this with olive oil or vegetable oil?"

The waiter blinked at him. "Vegetable oil…I believe, sir."

Kirby snorted. "Thought so." Cooking with vegetable oil. Idiots. He flipped the menu over and ordered a salad.

"And madam?" Kirby had to nudge Toaster from under the table.

"Hm? Me? Oh!" She opened the menu and quickly looked it over again. "Um…the alfredo pasta with garlic toast please." She suddenly hesitated before looking up at the waiter. "Umm, how is your toaster doing?"

"Beg pardon?" The waiter stopped writing to blink down at her.

"Has it had a long day? I don't want to overwork it if it's been making toast for everyone all day long."

The waiter stared at her before glancing over at Kirby. Kirby returned the look with a stony gaze. It was a perfectly rational question in his opinion.

"Um…I think it's fine. Although, we actually use an oven for the garlic bread, since we make so much of it…"

"Oh! Well, that's very considerate of you!" Toaster turned her beaming face to Kirby. "You know, I've often wondered how toasters in restaurants were treated. I'm glad this one treats its appliances so well!"

"Toasters, maybe," Kirby responded dryly. "But I feel sorry for the vacuum that has to deal with this mess." He nodded toward a table in the corner where a two-year-old was dumping soup on the floor.

The waiter's eye twitched as he finished writing the order. "I'll be back," he mumbled, darting back to the kitchen, where he could safely gossip with the sous chef about yet another set of weirdos.

Blissfully unaware, Toaster and Kirby continued enjoying themselves. The atmosphere was new and odd, but together it worked for them. The meal, when it arrived, only acted as a change of pace, but they enjoyed every bit of it, except…

"Well, a toaster would have evenly toasted the garlic bread."

From there they walked to the park, following the directions Rob had marked down on a note pad for Kirby. Toaster was squealing with excitement the entire way.

"Look at that!" Toaster pointed to a small group of bike riders coasting along the street.

"What about them?" Kirby suspiciously regarded the two wheels.

"I think I want to try that sometime," Toaster said, hugging him all the tighter. Now Kirby looked at the bikes and their riders with great disdain. He made pains to move Toaster out of their way, coloring only slightly when she laughed and exclaimed, "Kirby, I won't get hurt."

"Considering the way you cook, I'm not so sure." He cocked a grin as she poked his arm.

The middle of the park boasted of a wide pavilion with a well-kept hedge circling around a courtyard. Vendors set up their tables and booths nearby, with signs that advertised hot dogs, bagels, and other treats. Kirby paused when he spotted a booth selling ice cream.

"Now that's something I've always wanted to try," he said.

"Really?"

"Well, don't sound so surprised," Kirby grumbled. "I may not have dreamt about being human, but I've done my share of wondering."

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

A line of four people had formed by the time they reached the vendor, so Toaster agreed to stay at a nearby bench while Kirby waited his turn. He watched out of the corner of his eye, marveling at how at ease she appeared. She was shorter than most of the women there, he realized, offhandedly comparing her and the women that passed by. He knew she was squatter than most of them, too. But even as he noted the differences, he couldn't help the flashes of being with her in bed, the way her body molded to his. She was like no others, he decided, pride stirring inside him.

He glanced away as his turn came to pay. A long list of flavors was tacked down on the glass counter, though a quick look told him there was no cherry. Never mind. He kept it simple and ordered the first flavor on the list. No need to be adventurous here.

When he turned around again, clear plastic bowls of vanilla held firmly in both hands, he found a man with long earrings leaning over Toaster. Alarm went off inside of him, for some reason he didn't understand, especially when something the man said made Toaster gasp and immediately begin patting down her clothes.

Ignoring the people who suddenly swarmed in his direction, he stormed back towards them.

"Here," he announced, shoving a bowl at her. "They didn't have any cherry." He kept his gaze fixed on the man, who paled suddenly under the silent threat and slowly backed off.

"Thank you!" Toaster forgot her panic and spooned a mouthful of ice cream. "Oh, yum!"

"Yeah, okay. Bye." Without further explanation, the man bolted off as fast as he could go.

"What did he want?" Kirby asked, suspiciously watching him until he disappeared from sight

"I'm not really sure." Toaster took another spoonful of ice cream. "Something about a fire, I think."

"What fire?"

"He didn't say. He told me I was smoking, so I just assumed I had caught on fire. Just a misunderstanding, I think." She took another taste. "Kirby, this is wonderful! You have to try some!"

"Hm." Kirby took her arm and led her to the grass, putting as much distance between her and any other bold strangers. The pavilion moved restlessly as couples and groups passed by. Kirby languidly observed couples and families playing, talking, and laughing. He only looked, however, wherever Toaster pointed. He couldn't seem to look at anything other than her.

And that suited him just fine.

A band finished setting up as they tossed away their bowls and spoons, and were already drawing quite a crowd of onlookers. Kirby was ready to duck out completely as people pressed him from all sides. Toaster, however, resisted his tugs.

"Kirby, look at the violin! What do you think they're going to play?"

"Nothing good," he remarked, noting an electric guitar. "Let's go."

"Wait just a minute, please?" Toaster begged. He gave in, but put both hands firmly on her shoulders to keep from losing her in the crowd.

A lead player tapped out a key. Immediately, music stirred through the courtyard. A lead singer swayed at the microphone as the beat began.

"Close your eyes.

Give me your hand, darling

Do you feel your heart beating?

Do you understand?

Do you feel the same?

The tune stirred his memory, and he closed his eyes. Perhaps it was something the radio had played once, though he couldn't recall anything as pleasant.

"Say my name

Sun shines in the rain

A whole life so lonely

Then you come and ease the pain…"

And it fit, he realized feeling Toaster pull his arms around her shoulders. He bent to bury his face in her hair.

"I don't want to lose this feeling…"

"Oh, look at them!" He followed her finger toward the middle of the pavilion. Several couples of all ages had begun dancing to the music.

"Doesn't that look like fun?" Toaster mused. "I've always wondered what dancing like that would be like."

Kirby fixed his gaze on one young couple, near Rob and Chris' age, who practically melded together as danced. Then, stirred by something odd, he put his arm around Toaster's waist and led her into the ring. Satisfied by the questioning look on her face, he took her hand in his, mimicking the young couple, and drew her in tightly. By the time the glee registered on her face, he was already attempting to lead her in the same sort of dance.

"Close your eyes

Give me your hand, darling…"

They managed, to a degree. They were both left-footed and awkward; Kirby himself was suddenly aware of how much he could hurt her if he stepped on her feet. But then she laid her head against his chest, and all he became aware of was wonderful it felt to hold her.

"Is this only burning an eternal flame?"

* * *

Lamps lit up the pavilion as darkness rolled in. The bands played on, switching up covers as the crowds changed. Kirby and Toaster were finished dancing when that initial song ended, however. Night found them lounging on the grass underneath the loveliest elm in the park, looking up at the branches waving in the breeze.

They talked about everything they could at first; human sensations, memories of the cabin. Toaster described the hospital to him, attempting the voices of the doctor and the nurses in a way that would have had Radio chuckling. Kirby berated himself for not asking about her first few moments as human. But then, never mind. He took some comfort in the sympathy in her voice.

"I would have been there if I had known," he said when she had finished. He watched as her hand reached up to catch one of the browning leaves falling.

"I know. And I would have been there for you, too."

"Nothing we can do about now," he said, closing his eyes and breathing in the air.

"Kirby, do you suppose…?" He opened one eye to look at her. She gazed up at the sky, where stars were now dotting the dark blue against the street lamps.

"Do I suppose what?"

"Well, do you think this happened by chance? That it was all just some strange coincidence? Or, do you think this was meant to happen?"

Kirby harrumphed. "You know I don't believe in fate."

"Then, coincidence?" She blinked her curious eyes at him.

Kirby stared back, mesmerized. "You know, I've never seen you before."

"Huh?" She wrinkled her nose.

"I mean I've never seen you as you. You've been Toaster, sure. But whenever I looked at you before the accident, I always saw myself."

"Oh, that." Toaster chuckled. "Everyone sees their reflection in me. It's okay. I'm used to it."

"But I don't see my reflection now." Kirby turned on his side and ran a hand along her waist. "I see you."

"But I'm just like I always was."

"Yes, you are."

"Then, I don't understand. How does not seeing your reflection in me answer whether this was fate or coincidence?"

Kirby knew he couldn't make her understand. This beautiful woman had once been a being so eager, hopeful, and bold that any appliance looking at her would see their own insecurities washed away. How could he explain that when he had seen himself in her it wasn't grumpy, bossy Kirby he had seen, but the Kirby who could face storms and leap waterfalls for others? How could he explain the terror he'd found when he realized, at last, seeing her human, that all that he thought of himself had been in his imagination, and everything she made him feel was simply everything he wanted to be for her?

"It doesn't matter," he heard himself saying, instead. "It was just something I was thinking of. Fate or coincidence?" He shrugged. "I don't believe the 'why here' question matters anymore. We…we can't really control what happens now."

"You don't sound upset about that."

"I'm not." And surprisingly, as he traced her smile with a finger, he found himself at peace. "Not anymore. We just need to do what we can to accept everything."

"You mean, have more experiences?"

Kirby scoffed, feigning hurt pride. "Are you saying tonight is just another experience for you?"

"Kirby, I can gladly announce that tonight has been the best experience yet. And we'll get through this. I know we will."

Instead of answering, Kirby gently pulled her into his lap for another kiss.

* * *

It was almost midnight when they returned to the house. Rob had offered to leave the backdoor unlocked, but Chris had vetoed by giving them her house key.

"It'll save all of us some time."

Kirby put a finger to his mouth to caution Toaster as he unlocked and opened the door, prepared to tiptoe up the stairs to avoid waking the McGroartys.

It was a surprise when he turned on the light, and found Chris and Rob entangled together on the couch. The two jolted apart at Toaster's gasp.

"Oh, sorry!" Toaster exclaimed. "We thought we would wake you."

"No, no, we haven't gone to bed yet." Rob straightened his pants in a manner that didn't hide the zipper's slide. "We just finished the movie, actually…"

"…An hour ago," Chris remarked with a guilty laugh as she glanced at the clock.

"An hour ago. Right." Rob tried to fix his glasses. "Enjoy your date?"

"It was wonderful!" Toaster broke into ecstatic's and would have plunked down on the sofa with them if Kirby had not held her arm and tugged her into the armchair with him. As much as he enjoyed her rendition of their evening, he found himself studying the faces of both humans, noting their poorly hidden excitement.

"Everything alright here?" he finally asked, as Toaster paused for a breath. Both Chris and Rob took a breath and shared a look, though Kirby could swear it wasn't embarrassment that held their tongues.

"Why not?" Chris said, answering whatever silent question they shared. "They should know why I've been so out of sorts lately. I'm pregnant," she announced, turning to them before they could question her further. "I got the call back from my doctor this afternoon. About six weeks along."

"Pregnant?" Kirby mouthed the word, but Toaster voiced it. "You mean, another little master?"

"Or a little girl." Chris in her joy completely overlooked Toaster's slip. "Hopefully, a little girl."

"So we can have one of each," Rob chimed in, clasping his wife.

"And then, that's enough!"

"Says you," Rob muttered under his breath with a grin. He caught Chris' wrist as she playfully swatted at him and kissed her hand.

"Well, don't you think that's great?" Chris asked the two.

"I think that's wonderful!" Toaster leaped from Kirby's arms before he could hold her back and rushed over to embrace Chris. "Another little human! Robbie will be so excited!"

"I'm excited." Chris returned the hug fiercely. "I've been feeling so awful all this time, ever since our trip to the lake! Now, I know why." She smoothed the ringlets over Toaster's eyes. "I've never been so happy."

"And now, it's late. So maybe we better get some sleep before you know who wakes up?" Kirby rose from the armchair to put his arms around Toaster, ready to follow Rob's suggestion. She lingered, though, as Chris and Rob left the room, arms clasped around each other.

"Congratulations," he heard her whisper.

"Thanks." The couple's chuckles and whispers followed after them as they disappeared.

"Another masterling. Isn't it wonderful?" Kirby let Toaster's question go unanswered as he shifted her hair over her shoulder and pressed his lips to her neck.

"Mmm," he murmured, intent on his work.

"I was afraid they'd never stop fighting. Chris said…I'm happy they'll be alright."

"Humans work it out." Kirby couldn't stop himself. "They always do."

In the low lamp light of the living room, she was slowly conceding to him. She turned her face up to him.

"Kirby," she pleaded when he deftly avoided her mouth. "Please."

"Ask me."

"But, you know what I want." Her eyes were warm and begging.

"I want to hear you say it."

"Bow chicka wow wow." A familiar voice interrupted from the dark kitchen. "Why don't you two get a room?"

"Why don't you just shut it!" Kirby shot back, as Toaster snickered. The spell was broken, to Kirby's disgust. Toaster knew better, however. Ignoring Ratso's cat calls, she slipped out of Kirby's relaxed grasp and smiled sweetly at him, taking his hand to guide him to the stairs.

Kirby immediately forgot Ratso's interruption and followed her.

"Good night, Ratso," she said, as Kirby hurried her to the guest room.


	10. There's No Time

Chapter 10: There's No Time for a Fuss or a Fight

Toaster emerged from sleep at the touch that traced the curve from her neck to her breastbone.

"Hm?" she asked, still foggy as Kirby's lips kissed the hollow of her throat.

"It's morning. I have to shower," she heard him say.

"Mm. Okay." Sleep was still too heavy on her, though it relented to the hand cupping her breast.

"Kirby," she moaned, trying to turn her back to him. "You're worse than radio!"

"Don't compare me to that loudmouth." The words lacked their bite as Kirby placed a kiss on the thigh she unintentionally presented him.

"Then let me sleep!" she begged, even as her senses flared with his touch. Kirby's low laugh and caress on her bottom insisted that he would do nothing of the sort. He grasped her shoulder to turn her over and sat her up, against her grumpy pleas.

"I want you awake when I come back." He cut off her why with a firm kiss on her mouth.

"It's not time to get up!" Her internal clock knew better, even with the faint darkness.

"Yes, it is." Toaster flared at the brisk pat to her head, and cocked open one eye to watch him move around the room. He picked up and shook out the clothes they'd left strewn in a path from the door. He hung up her dress and cardigan, while laying his own slacks and shirt over the armchair.

"Rob will be expecting you in the clinic," Kirby said.

"No, he won't. It's Sunday." Toaster raised an eyebrow. "You knew that!"

Kirby's grin was at least sheepish.

"Kirby!" she groaned. "You're trying to get me up too early!"

"I would never." Toaster hurled a pillow at him, laughing despite herself as Kirby ducked into the bathroom. They had the morning to themselves again. She wanted to learn more about cooking, and Kirby had promised Belgian waffles.

While she was thinking about it, she reached for the little container Kris had given her and swallowed one of the tiny pills. She tried to roll over and go back to sleep, defiant, only to find her dreams sleepless and filled with him. Exasperated, she set about straightening the covers and retrieving the pillow from the floor instead.

A folded paper fluttered out at her feet.

"Hm? Kirby, did you drop this?" The shower was already on. She doubted he heard her. Toaster shrugged and bent to pick up the note.

Her fingers recoiled as she read the words scrawled on the front: The Toaster and the Vacuum. As though a ghost had touched icy hands to her back, Toaster caught her breath and stared hard at the note. When she did finally pick it up and unfold it, her hands were shaking and her heart thundering a terrible beat.

Written in long, shaky letters, the note read, "Wittgenstein contacted early morning. Studied test results again. Says reverse still possible. Tell Ratso to call when ready to change."

 _When ready to change. When ready to change._ A strange daze fell over Toaster; a sudden longing and connection to a past that seemed ethereal as the days had gone on. Memories of kitchen countertops, electric surges, watching from high places, sped across her soul.

Then Kirby's deep voice rang out above the running water. As Toaster listened, she could make out the words to "An Eternal Flame". Her eyes closed, and memories of the evening played before her. When they had finished rushing by, memories of sound and touch affected her; Kirby's touch. A strange new part of her stirred with uneasiness.

She folded the note several times until it was a tiny cube in her hand, then she stuffed it into her cardigan pocket. When Kirby finally emerged, warmed and energized from his shower, he found the toaster lounging on the pillows, waiting for him with an expectant smile.

He had no idea how her heart stung her with the little lie she had hidden away.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Toaster avoided Ratso and any other appliance at all costs. She was almost afraid that Kirby would sense her guilt. She worried each time Kirby went into the kitchen that Ratso would jump at the opportunity to share the good news. But with Chris and Rob fiddling around in the house, and Robbie demanding Kirby's attention every minute, Ratso never had a chance.

Perhaps elated by their first real attempt to cultivate their relationship, the vacuum noticed nothing strange about her at all.

About 4:00pm came a new distraction: she got her first chance to ride a bicycle. Chris, on hearing her describe the park, had instantly dragged her out to the shed to find the old bicycles she and Rob once used.

"I've haven't been out for a ride since Rob was born," she explained, wiping the dust from the weather worn seat of the green roadster. "It's gets uncomfortable after a time. I might as well take the chance while I have it!"

Toaster could hardly contain herself while she and Chris cleaned the bikes and aired the tires. As soon as Kris declared them ready, she threw her leg over the bike and jumped up on the seat.

And immediately tipped over.

The elation of riding had to be postponed while Kris taught her balance and controlling the handlebars. For the next hour, she wobbled in the seat, practicing controlling the handlebars while pumping her legs at the same time. Most of the practice was further postponed as they taped bandages to her knees and elbows. Toaster was anything if not determined, and by the time Kirby came outside with Robbie, she was gliding along with Chris to the end of the street and back.

"See? I did it!" she yelled at him as she rode circles around him in the driveway.

"Watch yourself," Kirby shot back, as Robbie waved at her. His concern seemed to be more for her than himself, however, as he proceeded to snap other directions at her when she broke for the street again:

"Stay on one side of the road!"

"Watch out for that car!"

"Ease up on that turn! You nearly crashed!"

"John, relax!" Chris finally told him, making her way up the driveway once more. "Thea's got this! And she picked it up quick."

"She's always been a fast learner," Kirby agreed, grudgingly.

Toaster, already flushed from her efforts and the thrill, blushed still further at his praise. "Kirby, you have to try this! It's like flying!"

"No thanks," Kirby replied, firmly. "I wasn't made for flying. Cars are good enough for me."

"Well, we'll just have to get you a driver's license, then," Chris teased.

Kirby's eyebrows rose, as if the thought, albeit new, was not altogether unpleasant.

"Here, take this, would you?" Chris held out her bike for him. "Thea will show you where to put it. I'll take Robbie in." Kirby traded her the toddler for the bike, and Toaster led him to the shed.

"So, was it what you expected?" Kirby asked, as she trotted beside him.

"A lot more work than I thought," Toaster admitted, wincing as the band-aids caught at her skin. "But the most wonderful thing I've tried."

"The most wonderful?"

"Next to sex, obviously!" Toaster fluttered her eyes up at him as they paused by the shed door, pleased when he roared back his head in laughter. They took some time to situate the bikes inside; the shed was barely large enough to fit Kirby.

"I think I'll get my own bike the next time we go into town," Toaster remarked, carelessly as she leaped out into the open again. "What do you think? Can our next date be a bike-buying event?" She glanced back to find him still standing in the shed, head bent to avoid knocking it against the ceiling. "Kirby?"

She peered around him to see what he was staring at, and sucked in a breath.

There, among the old lawnmower and rusty cans, lay his old vacuum form.

"Oh." She shivered, knowing exactly how he felt.

"I…is that…was that…really what I looked like?" Kirby's voice shook.

 _When ready to change_. Toaster didn't look around. She didn't want to. A strange ghost prickled her skin as she sensed that her own toaster form was somewhere in the junk as well. She tugged at Kirby's arm.

"Come on," she urged him, wishing she had the strength to move him. Her touch roused him, and he turned away, albeit slowly to walk out of the shed. Toaster quickly closed the door and bolted it, heart thundering as she tried to close up the memory.

Kirby walked back to the house as though in a dream.

"You know, this didn't seem entirely real until I saw…it," he said. "We really are…I guess…I guess I'll never be…it…again." His arm held her tighter.

Toaster's heart twisted, thinking of the note. She didn't say a word.

* * *

Monday brought some relief, as Chris announced at breakfast that she was skipping work to take Kirby into town.

"We seriously need to restock this kitchen, and I can't think of anyone who is better suited for grocery shopping!"

Kirby protested only mildly-who would look after Robbie…?

"We'll take him with us!" Chris insisted. "It'll be his first ride in our new van! And I can drop you guys off at the park on our way back! We'll just pack up the stroller! " She sounded sincere enough, but Toaster caught a tone of something eager in her tone.

Rob seemed to be in on the secret, too, judging from the wink he gave her.

Whatever it was, Toaster quickly added her own consent to the plan. Anything to keep him away from Ratso, who spent all of breakfast making gestures towards the junk drawer and the computer. Kirby didn't notice at all, but Toaster's heart plummeted with every pleading look Ratso sent her way.

 _What is wrong with you?_ She berated herself at every turn in the clinic. _Don't you want things to go back to normal? Don't you miss being a Toaster? It's nearly September; you've been human for nearly two months?_

But it was just enough to adjust to being human. The sensation of clothes no longer bothered her, nor brushing her hair, or washing her face. It was so natural.

And Kirby…wonderful, loving Kirby with his gentle, eager touch and his nightly affection.

How could she give all of that up now? How could anyone ask her to?

 _You're a toaster._

 _No. I'm so much more now…_

Rob had to snap his fingers before her eyes to get her full attention.

"I've never seen you distracted," he said.

"Sorry."

"No, no! You're fine! I just have something for you." He was near to bursting with whatever secret he had.

"Okay, what's up?" she said, glad to grin as she watched him.

Rob didn't answer. Instead, heading for his desk, he produced a folder with a flourish from by his computer.

"This," he claimed, holding it out.

Toaster accepted it, looking it over curiously. Inside were application forms and instructions for a local college…a program…

"For a veterinary certificate?" she gasped, catching the key words.

"Well, veterinary assistant." Rob was nearly breathless as he rushed to explain. "The program is nine months, if you take at least two classes per term. But you'd be able to work with me here, full time. And maybe, you'd be ready for a full certificate in time."

Toaster could hardly breathe. "This…this is wonderful!" _Me? A veterinarian? Looking after animals?_

"So, you're interested?"

"Yes!" She flung her arms around his neck, scattering the folder everywhere.

Rob chatted on about times and dates for setting up, getting her the right forms, taking her to visit the campus and the administrators. She helped him gather up the forms again, head in the clouds.

A real veterinarian. Dr. Thea Masters…

 _Your name is Toaster._

And the panic was back. The terrible note which should have been the end to their trouble.

Toaster's excitement deflated. She swallowed back a thick lump.

"Something wrong?" Rob asked, catching her despair.

Toaster shook her head. "It's just…I don't know if I can."

Rob's eyebrows rose. "What? Of course, you can! You're a natural at this!" His hand swept across the clinic. "You've been the best assistant I've ever had! And I know you love doing it." Toaster tried not to wince as he studied her. "Is it the money? Chris and I already talked about helping you with that. And the school offers excellent loan programs. It'll be worth it, I swear!"

"No, it's not that." Toaster's voice caught. "I just…I don't know…"

"Think it over. Please, Thea?" Rob squeezed her hand. "You owe it yourself not to pass up this opportunity. Talk it over with John. I'll bet he won't let you turn it down!"

Toaster wasn't so sure about that.

* * *

Kirby's fingers tapped the diner table, keeping up a steady beat. His other hand held the self-business questionnaire before his eyes, reading everything through again.

1\. What is the name of your company?

2\. Will you do the cleaning yourself, or will you hire others?

3\. Will you apply for a business license?

"Business license," he murmured, looking across the table at Chris.

The woman could barely contain her excitement. "The lady at the class said the process is relatively painless. She gave me the IRS website so we can check the rules to see what you need to get started."

"Get started," Kirby echoed, too stunned. He wiped ketchup from Robbie's chin before looking at the questionnaire again, finding himself too flustered to focus on any given word. "You want me to start my own cleaning business?"

"Well, why not?" Chris leaned across the table. "Look what you've done for me! For my house! I've never been able to get everything so clean and neat since I moved here! And I know plenty of people who would want your expertise!" She tapped the rim of her coffee cup. "There's the Johnsons down the street…the apartment complex over on Lee BLVD: they haven't been able to keep a cleaning service since they started…"

"But…but…I don't know anything about keeping a business," Kirby protested. He was starting to wish Toaster had come. She'd encourage him, or talk him out of it.

"That's what I'm here for!" Chris' smile had never been so large in her life. "I know you don't care much about the money, but this would help you and Thea, and would be a life saver for me, too! Between Robbie and another baby, I'm going to be needed at home full-time! I'll keep your accounts for you and advertise! We'll be partners in this!"

"But, what about Robbie?" Deep regret cut through the excitement Kirby began to feel. "I won't be able to take him to the park anymore."

"Of course, you could!" Chris laughed. "I mean, I can't believe he doesn't wear you out, but that could be the other part of the business: park sitting!"

"Park sitting?" Kirby raised an eyebrow.

"Lots of mothers need sitters who can take care of their kids after school. What if we offered services to pick kids up and take them by the park?" Chris took a sip of her coffee. "You could clean houses in the mornings and then pick up the kids?"

"And I'd still spend time with Robbie," Kirby said, satisfied by the idea. He paid little attention to Chris' amused laughter as he mulled over the ideas. As much amused by her enthusiasm as his own piqued curiosity, Kirby followed her through searching websites to compare costs and supplies, considering techniques and drawing up his list of services (and quite a list it was, too).

By the time they were ready to leave the diner, they had everything drawn up and ready.

Almost.

"Of course, you should think about it," Chris generously told him, as he hesitated. She expertly dressed her squirming son in his windbreaker and cap. "This isn't the sort of thing you should rush into. Not if you have other plans…"

Other plans? Kirby thought of the junk drawer as he climbed into the van Robbie. It wasn't as if there was anything else they could do for him or Toaster. But still…

"Think it over. Hey, you might even talk it out with your park friends. I'll bet they could drum up some business for you!"

* * *

The ladies were more than ecstatic.

"A cleaning service! That's perfect!" Colette's eyes shone with the idea. "I have neighbors who would love to have you clean their houses!"

" _I_ would love to have you clean _my house_ ," Judy insisted. "How much will you charge?"

Kirby rattled off the list Kris had set up. It wasn't much to begin, but it would grow.

"Where will you set up business?" Mary asked.

"Set up?" Kirby wracked his mind. Kris had mentioned phone calls and schedules, but there really wasn't a base of operations. There wasn't much space in the McGroarty house, but perhaps he could borrow the study…

"Do you have place for people to drop off kids?" Colette looked wistfully at the twins, kicking up sand at each other. "I know I'd love someone who could take Cole to school in the mornings. The bus is a nightmare."

That set off the other two laughing and gossiping; agreeing at the same time. Kirby darted to the jungle gym at Robbie's wave and helped him cross the monkey bars. That gave him time to think. They were right; the McGroartys' house was already too crowded.

What was he thinking? He dusted his hands off as Robbie reached the other side and watched him run for the slide. Move out of Rob's house? Move away from everything and everyone he knew?

"But why stay?" A voice inside his head began to ask. "You heard Ratso. It's impossible to change. All you can do is move forward."

But move? Literally move away? What would Toaster say? And to where?

He turned, gazing around at the neighborhood.

The Meyer house with its weather worn for rent sign caught his eye.

"Why not?" Chris' voice echoed in his mind.

"Why not?" he boomed.

* * *

Toaster was still cleaning the surgery when he stepped into the clinic. She actually screamed and leaped up when he grabbed her from behind.

"Kirby! What was that all about!"

"Sorry," Kirby replied, chastised. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you sure did." Her hand was pressed to her chest. "Geez, this hurts!"

"Are you almost finished with that?" He nodded towards the cloth she was using to wipe down counters.

"Almost. Just ten more minutes. Why?" He watched her, admiring, as she whipped about the room, moving this and that aside. He had to fight back the urge to sweep her up in his arms again.

"I have something to tell you," he tried instead.

"And I have something to tell you. I just…I wish I had more time…" He couldn't help kissing that upturned face.

"I can give you more time," he reassured her. The clinic looked tidied enough even for his taste, but if she wasn't done yet, far be it from him to stop her. "I'll wait for you in our bedroom."

"You sure?" she said, sounding cautious. "You're going straight upstairs to the bedroom."

"Uh huh."

"You…you won't stop by the kitchen."

What was she on about? He humored her. "No, I'll go right up to the bedroom."

"…Okay, then."

"I'll see you…upstairs." Subtly wasn't his forte. But he felt assured by the smile Toaster gave him.

He wanted to shout. He whistled instead. The image of the Meyer house kept flashing before his eyes. He'd lingered nearby the yard before taking Robbie home, just casually looking the place over. The roof was missing shingles, but that could be repaired. The driveway had cracks in the cement, but neither he nor Toaster could drive a car anyway. As for the inside of the house…he dismissed the notion almost as soon as it came, smiling away his reservations.

It could all be repaired and ready for them. The two of them.

Why not?

Once inside, Kirby found himself too restless to focus. He fumbled around the living room and stairs before finding himself in the guest room. He had to be productive. If only Toaster had been finished when he got back…he wondered what she would say. He eyed the guestroom, wishing he'd brought something back from town; a cherry slushie, or some cherry icecream.

Hindsight. Just hindsight. He straightened the bedcovers, and eyed himself in the mirror. A flash of magenta caught his eye, where Toaster's cardigan had fallen off the hook on the back of the door. He smiled to himself, wondering if she'd leave a mess wherever she went. He lifted the cardigan and shook it out, straightening out the sleeves.

A tiny cube of paper fluttered out of the pocket. He bent to pick it up, shaking his head at her careless ways. He'd have to remind her to clean out her pockets before laundry day…

Then, the writing caught his eye.

* * *

Toaster all but burst into the house, her heart thudding. All afternoon she'd rehearsed her speech, working out everything in her heart. "Look, Kirby, I know you think it's unnatural, but Rob says I have a knack for this, and you always say studying is hard work…" And then she'd tell him about the note.

Surely, he would understand.

She paused in front of the bedroom door, taking a deep breath before turning the knob.

"Kirby!" she said, as he raised his head…

…And then she stopped at the sight of a crumpled paper in his hands. Her cardigan lay on the bed at his side. His face remained impassive, even cold as he stared at her.

A terrible sinking wave of guilt crushed her. "Oh. I…"

Kirby didn't help her out at all. He simply sat there, unnerving her with his steady gaze.

"Kirby." She pleaded, dropping her head. "I know I should have shown it to you. I know."

"So, why didn't you?" There was a hard edge to Kirby's voice; one that she had never heard before.

"I guess…I guess I wanted a little a little more time to be human."

"A little more time." Now the words sounded strangled.

"Please don't been mad." Toaster clasped her hands together, feeling the touch of her own clammy skin. "I know they would have found a way eventually. Wittengstein is brilliant, after all; the hearing aids once worked for Einstein. I was just wasn't ready, after all that has happened."

"But you're not ready now." She looked away, she couldn't stand the way he glared at her, burning a hole into her heart with his judgement.

"Well, I do miss everyone. Blanky, and Lampy, and Radio, and the faucet, and the microwave, and the hearing aids, and…"

"Who cares what you miss?" She shuddered as Kirby's voice raised the roof. "Haven't you stopped to think about how I would feel? I thought we were in this together!"

"I know." Tears threatened at her cheeks as the shame she'd hidden flooded over her.

"All the plans we've made, all the what ifs, and all this time…" He cut himself off. "Just how long have you had this, anyway?"

Toaster drew a shaky breath. "Ever since our date…"

"What? I can't hear you."

She swallowed and looked up at him. "Ever since our first date."

She couldn't interpret the look that crossed his face. Surprise? Shock? "Two days? You've had this note for TWO DAYS, and you've never said a word?"

"I know! I know!"

"For two days you let me think we were stuck like this! You let me make plans and act like we would have a life together! And all the while you knew they had found a way!"

The tears broke loose. "I'm sorry, alright! I know I should have shown it to you! I know we should have talked about it. But Kirby…" She couldn't say it. She couldn't make him understand. "…We don't really know that Wittengstein knows anything. He…he…they, our friends, don't even know how we became human in the first place!"

"For the last time, I don't care about them!" Kirby dropped the note, clasping at his head with both hands. "I'm talking about you and how you let me think…you lied…" The last words were spoken in a whisper as all the fight drained from Kirby. He covered his face in his hands and heaved deep breaths.

Toaster hugged herself, leaning into the doorframe for support. She stared down at her feet, wishing for another chance.

"I just had to have time to think about it," she said, trying hard to explain the spinning feelings in her head.

"And you didn't think I needed that time, too?" Kirby's voice was shaking now.

"Of course, you did," Toaster said, wanting desperately to reach out and hug him. "Of course, I didn't. I just saw that note in the covers, and I was just afraid…"

"That I wouldn't understand?"

Toaster squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears.

"Well, perhaps you're right. I don't understand. Perhaps I'm just an old, rusty appliance after all. I never thought it would be this complicated. But…I want you to be…" Kirby huffed out a deep breath. "Alright. That's settled. Go ahead and do it."

Toaster opened her eyes. "Do…what?"

"Contact Wittengstein. Tell him we're ready to do anything he suggests. If you're lucky, we'll be appliances again before tomorrow morning, doing exactly what we were made to do."

"What?" Toaster looked up to find Kirby staring out the window. His eyes had misted, and deep wrinkles settled over his cheeks.

"I don't understand, but I want you to be happy. And you want to go back to being a toaster. Well, sure, who could blame you? Stuck in that body, stuck with me. You miss those dimwits, miss being useful in this house. Well, fine. Who needs to be human? As soon as I get Robbie to bed, we'll get Ratso to call…"

Unable to control the bubbling joy that swept through her, Toaster launched herself at Kirby with a shout. They tumbled backwards on the bed, Toaster straddling Kirby as she hugged the living daylights out of him.

"What are you doing? Get off!" Toaster somehow managed to keep her grip on him even as he tried to pry her off. When he finally succeeded in untangling her arms from his neck and holding her out, she bent forward to kiss him with as much passion as her excitement could muster. It was an odd kiss, with Kirby spluttering and Toaster laughing so hard. It didn't last long at all. But it was more than enough for both to understand- finally and truly understand- each other.

When they broke the kiss for a breath, Kirby held Toaster back at arm's length to gaze up into her face.

"You…you don't want to contact Wittgenstein." It wasn't a question. The stern lines had disappeared from Kirby's face, and his eyes were large with something like awe and hope. "You don't want to be an appliance again."

Toaster tossed back her head in another laugh, feeling her hair dangle. This was a freedom she had never known at all before; to laugh without fear and be clasped without anxiety. It was Kirby who raised her head to kiss her, pulling her atop him as though he would never let her go.

* * *

"Please understand guys," she pleaded a little later with three motionless appliances. They had gathered the three from their various places around the house and set them in the bedroom. They would have to tell Ratso next, and perhaps the kitchen appliances, if Rob and Chris were out. But Toaster felt they owed it to their closest companions, first and foremost.

Kirby sat next to her, holding one hand while his other arm wrapped around her waist, a present source even while he let her explain everything.

"It's not that we don't miss you- or everyone else-this is…this is…I don't even know if I can explain it." She glanced down at Kirby's hand, watching his thumb rub her wrist. Despite their expressionless forms, Toaster could easily imagine Blanky's tears and Radio's panicked retorts, and even Lampy's confusion.

"We need to stay as we are," she said at last. "Like this. Human. I don't think we could be appliances again even if we tried. You'd understand if you felt it too…" she trailed off. She looked to Kirby for help. He cleared his throat, but said nothing at all.

"I love you all." The words startled her even as she said them. Love. What she had understood of love as an appliance and what she had experienced of love as a human were two vastly different feelings. But it was true all the same. Her eyes clouded as she felt a steady pain cross her heart. "I love you all so much. We love you all." She squeezed Kirby's hand. "And we'll be here for you as often as we can."

"Whenever we can," Kirby confirmed.

She shared a look with him before reaching out to sweep her friends into her arms. She rubbed her cheek against them, hoping the touch soothed them. Kirby patted each; awkward, but affectionate in his own way.

"Do you think they understand?" Toaster asked as they left the room.

"No." Kirby's arm drew her close. "But I wouldn't have either."

"It'll be different without them. I'd almost…" Toaster stopped herself, settling for laying her head against Kirby's side.

"You'd almost what?" Kirby's voice was far too soft. "You'd almost…be a toaster again?"

"No." She pulled his head down to kiss him. "That's over now."

She withstood his scrutiny, watching him waver between agreement and uncertainty.

"I suppose it is," he said at last.

They stood in the hallway for some time, holding one another, grateful that luck had seen fit to let each of them be. They didn't hear the squeak of the door as it slit open, or see the woeful eyes that watched them walk away together.

Their imaginations already knew it.


	11. As We Travel

Chapter 11: As We Travel the Land

The time whirled away once their decision was made. Intent on proving himself, Kirby launched into his cleaning service with more fervor and passion than even Toaster thought possible. Word of mouth spread from his park ladies, and Kirby soon found himself with plenty of clients and houses needing attention. Mothers were wary at first of handing over their children to such a tall, stern-faced fellow, but those who observed him with little Robbie knew he could be trusted.

Confident with his own progress, Kirby encouraged Toaster to register for her veterinarian assistant certificate. With Rob's help, she selected courses for the following spring and began studying the books he lent her in earnest. She worked in the clinic as often as she could, gaining the experience and loving every animal that came their way.

It was the move to the Meyer house, though, that made everything real for her. While the realtor chatted about plumbing and carpets, Toaster quietly observed the empty three- bedroom house. Its stillness reminded her eerily of the cabin.

"But they look nothing alike," Kirby remarked when she mentioned it to him.

"You're wrong," she replied, recalling the quiet, isolated place that had been her first home. Kirby was focused solely on the value of the space. Toaster sensed quiet evenings curled up on a sofa, watching the sunset; mornings in the kitchen, watching Kirby whip up some new delight; sitting on the porch, studying for her new career.

A future of possibilities.

Suddenly eager, Toaster concurred with Kirby when they signed the paperwork. Rob and Chris lent them the money to make their first rent payment- a loan agreement that Kirby insisted on.

"You've already done a lot for us," he said, and Toaster agreed.

By late October they had moved in, and in November they found themselves furnishing their new home. They made store clerks' days living nightmares as they spoke with each appliance.

"Does it ever singe edges of the bread when it feels left out?" Toaster asked about each new toaster model, perturbed that she couldn't give each one a chance. Kirby caused his own brand of confusion by claiming that one vacuum model had a nasty attitude. They couldn't explain to the overwhelmed sales associates what personalities meant for their new home, and they had to be certain that they found the right ones: the ones that would last.

Perhaps, Toaster realized wistfully, they were hoping to assemble another team. Even though Kirby never said a word, she knew their friends were never far from his thoughts either.

Thanksgiving came and went in the midst of their preparations; hardly noticed. Oh, sure, Toaster was excited to celebrate her first real human holiday, but the true excitement for her was to be in the middle of her own room in a bed with Kirby fast asleep at her side.

Now Christmas was coming, and even though their décor boasted of little more than a pine tree her height with one strand of blue lights and Robbie's paper snowflakes, Toaster couldn't help her pride at their decorated house. The next day or so she'd persuade Kirby to track the fields with her, looking for mistletoe and evergreens to tuck around the rooms. He'd be a grump about it, of course.

But he would be with her.

"Home again. Home again. On steady ground…" she sang as she sat curled up in the armchair. The picture window poised a lovely winter scene before, lovely snow just settling, as the sky mixed shades of dark blue with the fading light. At her right, too far from the window, the tree sparkled.

Home. Home at Christmastime. She rubbed her cheek against the armrest and hugged her knees against her chest. Had she ever had a lovelier moment in her life?

Behind her a pencil snapped, and a deep voice swore. Smiling, she turned her head away from the window and smiled at the figure sitting at the desk.

"What?" he demanded, gruffly, without looking around.

She was flabbergasted. "What do you mean what?"

"I can feel you looking at me." He twisted the chair to look at her, cocking his eyebrow as he studied her somberly. Far too somberly for such a lovely night. "What are you thinking now?"

She chuckled, and bounded out of the armchair to throw her arms around his neck. "I was thinking we should put the tree closer to the window. No one from the street will see the lights…"

His groan made her laugh louder. "For the last time, the tree is FINE in the corner. Just FINE. WE can see the lights, and that's all that matters. No one looks in the windows anyway…I'm not moving that blasted tree again!"

"Okay, okay." She stroked the short hairs over his ears to soothe him and kissed his cheek. "It was just a thought."

"Yeah, well, it's dangerous when you think." He tilted his head back to look up at her, his eyes deep and adoring, and his face crinkling with wrinkles; his hidden smile.

How she loved the way he smiled. "I just want to do something," she confessed. Something special, she added.

"Then, go get another pencil for me." He tossed the broken one into the trash bin at his feet. "I've got to get this budget done tonight."

"Alright." She started for the kitchen, but he caught her arm first and drew her back for another kiss. She shared a smile with him, knowing, grumpy or not, that he was as happy as she. She twirled out of his grasp, humming as she left.

This was her life now; she realized, pausing in the doorway to flick on the kitchen light. The two of them. She fished around the kitchen cabinets for a pencil. And even while the delight captivated her, the oddness that it brought still tingled inside of her.

The sight of a shiny chrome platted toaster with black accents resting at the end of the kitchen counter reminded her of that. Forgetting the pencil, she reached out for the appliance and picked it up, seeing her reflection peering back. As odd as it felt to see the brown eyes that gazed back at her, she knew it was even odder still that they inhabited a human face. She handled the toaster carefully, running her finger along its top with care, remembering what a human touch could mean.

"Are you pretending to toast bread?" she asked, stroking a finger over its handle. "Or are you wondering what it might be like to be human and have all these wonderful feelings?"

"Hurry it up!"

Toaster gave the appliance once last look before returning to the living room.

"What's got your cords in a twist?" she teased, slapping the pencil in his outstretched hand. She leaned against the table to watch him flip through his notebook pages.

"I have to get these expenses figured out before the end of the month," he replied. "Our money won't grow at the rate we've been spending it, and it's not like we make enough between us."

"We'll manage," she assured him.

"We will manage." Kirby's voice was firm and determined as he opened a box of receipts. "We will manage because I am going to keep track of our expenses." He tapped a page that read "Cleaning Supplies". "I'm going out tomorrow. What do we need?"

"Polish," Toaster replied, thinking. "And more dust rags for the bathrooms."

"Toilet paper." Kirby quickly jotted everything down.

"…And some Christmas spirit, maybe a little holiday joy…" Toaster grinned as Kirby seized and kissed her hand.

"That's your prime directive," he grumbled in response, his head half buried in receipts. Toaster shook her head at him, placing her hands on her hips.

The doorbell rang, followed by a firm pounding.

"Just make sure you get a double roll this time," Toaster insisted as she went to answer. "I don't want to run out so fast again."

They both froze at the knock on the door: a distinctive tapping that retrieved a distant memory from their minds.

 _"_ _Luckily, my war training included inter-appliance codes."_

No, it couldn't be.

Toaster hesitated with her hand on the doorknob, looking over at Kirby. His expression told her little, but he rose from his chair so fast the poor thing teetered on its legs.

She twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

* * *

Six in the evening saw tired workers headed home, and mothers anxious for their kids to be fed and settled for bed. Late night walkers had their dogs out on leashes, both breathing in the cool air even as the smells of dinner beckoned them home.

With their lives so preoccupied, those outside the newly rented house took only minor notice of startled cries and greetings. They might have noticed the three strangers standing on the doorstep, cheering and talking at once. They might have wondered at the poorly fitting things they had on, making them look like mismatched hobos. They might have shrugged in some fond memory at the way the couple swept each one into a crushing hug. They might have smiled at the way the short, dark-haired woman lifted up the little golden-haired child, shouting, "Blanky!" while the child chanted over and over, "Toaster! Toaster!" They might have laughed at the way a lanky fellow leaned on the broad gentleman, while a red-haired man danced a jig at their feet.

They might have seen it all, but, like most people, they thought nothing of it. They continued their own lives, writing other stories that few might hear. As for the family themselves, they weren't upset by the lack of attention. The couple ushered the newcomers inside the house and firmly closed the door on the world; in their joy leaving explanations and stories untold.

Untold for this story that is.


End file.
